


Ambitions

by Burtonized



Series: History Maker [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Band Fic, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Confident Katsuki Yuuri, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Phichit Chulanont Is a Good Friend, Slow Burn, Victor Nikiforov is Extra, Yuri Plisetsky Is A Little Shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2020-04-07 22:25:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 74,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19094287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Burtonized/pseuds/Burtonized
Summary: Viktor finally had what he had wanted his entire life: a band that was at the point of their debut, a vocalist that sounded like he had always envisioned, and the promise of their first ever upcoming tour. Needless to say, he was ecstatic, thinking they could leave behind the mess that had been their previous vocalist.It should have been that easy, thatsimple, but life was never simple. Viktor knew he could expect some minor bumps down the road, but he didn't expect falling in love would be both a blessing and a curse when it came to their band.Or: The AU in which Viktor finally has gotten the vocalist he wanted to join their band. The debuting album, the upcoming tour - it was all according to plan. Falling in love, however, wasn't part of that plan.





	1. The Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back, folks!
> 
> After much internal debate with myself, I realised I wasn't done with our precious boys, and thus I decided to start this story. Ambitions can be read alone, but I would advice you guys to read Eye of the Storm first, as it gives an insight into how the guys started. This story will follow our boys as they grow and learn.  
> As mentioned before in Eye of the Storm, I am heavily inspired by One OK Rock (and highly suggest you guys listening to their songs!). Each chapter will be named after one of their songs and I may or may not take some of their history into account when writing this story. Furthermore, English is not my main language and I have no one betaing this thing for me. Any errors, typos, or mistakes are all mine. Also, I know shit about the music industry, but I do my best to make this story as believable as possible. 
> 
> On a sidenote, his is really laying out the groundworks for our boys. They haven't known Yuuri that long yet, and have to grow and evolve as both persons and bands. Keep in mind that this story is a slowburn, as I really want to explore the relationship between Viktor and Yuuri.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Yuri on Ice or One OK Rock, only my imagination and mistakes.

**PROMISING ROCKBAND _HISTORY MAKER_ TO DEBUT THEIR FIRST ALBUM**

It has been a rocky start for **History Maker**. After losing their lead singer at, what was supposed to be the turning point of their musical career, the band seemed to be lost. But they found a new lead singer, Katsuki Yuuri, in the nick of time. Lead guitarist and leader of the band, Viktor Nikiforov, was positive about their new singer: "I am really happy Yuuri wanted to join us," he said when we met him for a small interview at Feltsmans building, "because Yuuri is extraordinary. When we heard the knews that Alex quit, we were all scared the band would be done, but Yuuri saved the day."

The band is a very 'multiculti' band, with four members each from different countries. Leader Viktor is a born Russian, bassist Christophe Giometti is Swiss, drummer Phichit Chulanont is Thai, while their new vocalist Yuuri is Japanese. When asked whether their different nationalities resulted in friction, they all laughed and said this was not the case... _yet_.

The release of their new album has been pushed back to a later date, to allow the band to rearrange and retake their songs to fit Yuuri's vocals. We asked the band their opinion about this.

 **Viktor** : "We don't mind, in all honesty. Alex was a great singer, but his voice didn't fit with our raw music. So we actually changed a lot of our songs to accommodate his voice."

 **Chris** : "It's a pleasure to finally do what we've wanted to do from the start. And Yuuri is amazing. We really couldn't have asked for a better singer."

 **Phichit** : "It's actually also good for us as a band. I mean, I've known Yuuri for a little while now, being roommates and such, but the other two haven't known him [Yuuri] that long. Working so intensely on the songs together, allows us as a band to grow."

 **Yuuri** : "I am simply grateful for the fact that they even want to do this, so I give them my all. We rather have our debuting album released on a later date where we know it's exactly how we want it, than release it earlier then intended with regret."

We our excited to see what this band can bring and if they can live up to the expectations they are rising.

* * *

Viktor woke up with a pounding headache.

In hindsight, he probably shouldn't have accepted the drinking contest with Chris last night, but hadn't he said before that hindsight was always a bitch?

With a loud groan, Viktor rolled over, surpressing the urge to vomit right there, right then. Bright sunlight was creeping through the not-fully closed curtains, shining on his face, and annoying him immensly. It had been a _long_ time since he'd been this hangover. Viktor couldn't say he had missed the feeling.

Though, as images from last night started floating back into his consiousness, he couldn't say he regretted it. Because he truly, honestly didn't regret last night at all.

It had been two weeks since Yuuri had joined their band. Two chaotic, but amazing weeks in which they had practiced together every free second they had. But it had all been for a good cause, with Yakov informing them yesterday morning that they officialy had gotten green light for the album.

All fout of them had been ecstatic when they had heard the news, to say the least. The entire ordeal had simply _begged_ for a night out, to celebrate the album and to officially welcome Yuuri to the band. With the album officially happening in the near future, Yuuri had told them - promised them - that he was here to stay.

And so the four of them had met up at a local club at night. They had toasted to Yuuri, to the album, and to the band. Phichit had taken it upon himself to document the entire night, his phone never leaving his hand for more than a few seconds ("We need to remember this, guys!" he had said enthusiastically). Chris had made sure they all had a drink in their hand the entire night, allowing the alcohol to flow freely ("It's a shit celebration if we don't drink, right?" Chris had reasoned). In a matter of a few hours (or had it been minutes?) they had all been intoxicated, laughing and dancing to the shit music that was being played, now that all the stress and anger had _finally_ been lifted from their shoulders.

It had just been plain stupid to allow himself to get dragged into one of Chris' infamous drinking games. You'd think Viktor would have learned by now, considering the many nights he had spend drinking with Chris in their younger years, but apparantly not.

So here Viktor was, with his head pounding like there was no tomorrow, with his stomach violently protesting with every movement he made, but with a smile plastered on his face. Although it resembled more of a creepy grimace, because Viktor truly felt like utter shit.

For a while, Viktor just lay there, thinking about yesterday, while trying to keep the urge to vomit in check. He briefly wondered whether his bandmates would also feel like shit, when his phone rang.

The sound was torture, slicing painfully through his throbbing skull. "Where are you, blasted thing?" Viktor muttered to himself while searching for his phone (clutching his stomach the entire time, willing the bile that was making its way up his throat to get the fuck back down). He made a victorious sound when he finally found his phone, though his stomach regretted it immediately.

"What?" he snarled, not even bothering to check the callers ID.

" _Wow_ ," answered the beautiful voice that belonged to their vocalist, "someone _is moody_."

"You would be too," Viktor said, although he felt a bit guilty for snapping at Yuuri like that. It wasn't Yuuri's fault that Viktor was hangover as hell. "My head is killing me, not to mention my stomach."

Yuuri snickered. " _You are by far the worst Russian I've ever met_." Viktor gasped at the insult, but Yuuri simply ignored him. " _To be fair though, I called Chris earlier and he didn't sound so happy either."_

"Good," Viktor mused, leaning back into the soft pillows again, closing his eyes. His stomach was still protesting, _a lot_ , "that's what he gets for making us drink like sailors."

" _Isn't the saying cursing like sailors?_ " Yuuri laughed. " _But you could have said no, you know, when he offered you all those drinks."_

"Yuuri, when Chris offers you drinks, you don't say no."

" _Well, I did. Hence why I'm probably the only one resembling a somewhat sober person now._ " Yuuri laughed again, obviously amused by the entire situation.

"So that means Phichit isn't that, _ah_ , sober either?" Viktor asked, grunting as another wave of nausea hit him. He probably should just go to the bathroom to puke his guts out and get all the alcohol out of his sytem, but the idea of moving made him want to vomit violently. So he stayed where he was, his eyes closed, trying to control his breathing, while he talked to Yuuri.

" _Iya_ ," Yuuri said in his native language. Viktor had learned that Yuuri tended to use his native language every now and then, fusing the Japanese words easily with English sentences. Viktor liked it, the way Yuuri's voice would curl around the words in such a foreign way. " _He is currently sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee, but I'm debating whether he's alive or not._ " Viktor thought he vaguely heard a " _I can hear you talking about me, fucker,"_ in the background.

Viktor snorted. "Poor Phichit."

" _No, he doesn't get to be pitied_ ," Yuuri scolded, but Viktor could hear the smile in his voice, " _it was his own fault for drinking too much. If you want to pity someone, pity me._ "

"Why would I pity you?"

" _Because I'm the one that has to get everyone's asses out of bed in time for our meeting with Yakov this afternoon_?"

 _Fuck_. Viktor had totally forgotten about the meeting with Yakov. Their manager had been too busy yesterday managing some of the other bands, but had promised they would talk today about the next step now that their album was officially going to happen. Viktor felt his hear flutter at the thought. _Their album was officially going to happen_. For years he had only dreamed of it being a possibility, and now it was finally turning into reality. Well, it was going to be reality if he could get his drunken ass out of bed in time.

" _You forgot, didn't you_?" Yuuri didn't sound impressed nor surprised.

"Maybe?"

Yuuri just groaned. " _And here I thought_ you _were the leader. I'm picking you up in fifty minutes, make sure you're good to go and presentable._ " And with that, Yuuri hung up on him.

Viktor stared at his phone for a few silent seconds, before another wave of nausea hit him. He scrambled out of bed, his hand against his mouth, trying desperately to make it to his bathroom in time.

~

After emptying his stomach, taking a nice hot shower, and forcing a cup of bitter coffee down his throat, Viktor felt considerably more human. His head was still throbbing uncomfortably, but it wasn't as bad as it had been almost an hour ago. His stomach also felt more at ease, enough at least for him to try and eat something. The problem, however, was that there wasn't much food he could find in his kitchen. Viktor hated cooking with a passion, probably because he once even managed to set pasta on fire (to the amusement of Chris). He liked to eat out, or eat at Chris his place, or bug the people at Feltsman building long enough until someone brought leftovers and gave it to him.

Viktor was busy trying to find something edible in his cabinet, when the doorbell rang, urging him to stop his search for food.

As expected, Yuuri was on the other side of the door, dressed in his usual attire. He was wearing his beloved faded jeans and oversized black sweater, a beanie covering his hair and dark sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose. The weather was still nice, but mornings could still be chilly, and Viktor had found out very early on that Yuuri loved to dress in comfortable clothing. _Stylishly comfortable_ , his head provided. Chris had asked Yuuri about his clothing during one of their practices, and Yuuri had simply shrugged, stating he dressed stylishly comfortable. Viktor couldn't help but agree: while Yuuri looked comfortable in his clothes, he also pulled the look off.

"Hey," Yuuri greeted, smiling one of his bright smiles.

"Hey," Viktor answered and as always, his heart fluttered upon hearing Yuuri's voice. It wasn't just Yuuri's singing voice that made Viktor weak in the knees, but Yuuri's entire voice.

Yuuri eyed him, his dark eyes moving up and down Viktors body, before raising an unimpressed eyebrow. "You look like shit."

"Thanks, I wasn't aware," Viktor grunted as he grabbed his coat. The coat was old, the fabric starting to get fuzzy in certain places, but Viktor liked it. He had bought it long ago on a trip back home to Russia, and his parents had gifted it to him. The coat reminded him of home, of his parents, of everything he had left behind to chase his dreams in America.

He followed Yuuri to the still humming car. Phichit and Chris were in the backseats and they exchanged quick greetings, none of them too excited about chatting their time in the car away.

Yuuri may have said that Viktor looked like shit, but one look at his other badmates told Viktor that he wasn't the only one. Phichit and Chris were wearing sunglasses and Chris had a very sour looking scowl on his face that intensified with every bump on the road. Phichit merely groaned every now and then, clutching his stomach whenever they made a sharp turn. Viktor snickered at the sight. He didn't know about Phichit, but he knew it had been a while since Chris and himself had gone all out like they had last night. As Viktor had gotten older, he had preferred to stay at home with his guitar, strumming away until the sun almost rose. Chris had been similar in that aspect, gradually leaving the nightlife behind in favor of their band.

But if Viktor was honest with himself, he knew it wasn't the only reason for his growing resentment against going out and drinking his ass off. It had ended too many times in nights he regretted, filled with men he didn't like, and passion that wasn't real. It always hurt in the morning, both in his mind and in his heart, and he grew tired of it. It just hadn't been worth it anymore.

"Looks like I'm not the only one that looks like shit," Viktor said softly to Yuuri, trying not to disturb their hungover bandmates. The ride to the studio wasn't long, fifteen minutes at most, but traffic was slower than usual this morning, and he could hear the faint snoring already starting from the backseats.

Yuuri hummed, eyeing Chris and Phichit in his mirror. "At least you're presentable enough that we can talk things through with Yakov. I wasn't so sure about that when I called you this morning."

"So little faith, Yuuri, I'm wounded."

Yuuri threw Viktor a look, but a smile was pulling at the corners of his lips. They said nothing after that, simply enjoying the calm atmosphere in the car. Yuuri put the radio on, humming along with the lyrics.

It was a nice feeling, the domesticity of the situation. Even though it had only been two weeks since Yuuri joined them, they had fallen into a routine far too easily. On most days, they would meet up at the studio, but sometimes Yuuri would pick them all up (first Chris, then Viktor), before driving them all to the studio. After practicing, Yuuri would bring them to Yutopia, his parents restaurant, where he would cook them some delicious food. Most of the dishes were Japanese, and although it always tasted foreign, Viktor learned he rather enjoyed the unfamilair tastes and spices. Especially katsudon, which turned out to be a tasty pork cutlet bowl. Sometimes they met Yuuri's parents, who turned out to be the loveliest people Viktor had met in a long time, specifically Hiroko Katsuki. She liked to fuzz about them and dote on them, claiming that friends of Yuuri were considered family. She fed them, groomed them, and gave them the biggest hugs when parting ways. Yuuri always acted as if she embarassed him, but Viktor could see the way Yuuri looked at his mother, full of love and adoration. Toshiyo Katsuki was a kind man, but he tended to let them mostly be, presumably because he didn't speak the language well enough to converse. Yuuri's parents weren't fluent in English, but where Hiroko could make her sentences fluent enough that they could comprehend what she tried to say, Toshiyo lacked the proper skill. The man didn't seem to mind though, always smiling kindly and looking fondly at his son.

Viktor hadn't met Mari Katsuki yet though, Yuuri's older sister. According to Phichit, she was a lot less welcoming than Yuuri's parents, speaking only when neccessairy and mostly keeping a low profile.

They pulled up at Feltsman building shortly after that, Yuuri lowering the volume of the radio and announcing that they had arrived. Phichit and Chris groaned in the backseats, complaining all the time it took to step out of the car. But their faces weren't scrunched up into scowls as before, their bodies obviously more relaxed.

They walked alongside eachother, Chris and Phichit on the outside, and Viktor and Yuuri on the inside. It wasn't a conscious decision, but Viktor found they tended to walk in that arrangement often, naturally falling into steps with eachother.

When they reached Yakovs office, Viktor was the first to enter, Yuuri following closely behind. They all sat down, in the same lineup as they had walked into the building, nervously glancing at eachother. They knew they had officially gotten green light, but the album wasn't there yet. Viktor knew that 'green light' didn't mean 'you're album is ready to go'. It was going to be a long process, filled with hours and hours of writing, making demos, rearranging, recording, et cetera. But it would all be worth it when they would finally hold the album in their hands. Of course, over the past year and a half they had already released some singles, back when Alex had still been their singer. Most of those songs would make it to their album, albeit a bit revamped and with Yuuri's vocals. But those songs weren't enough to fill an entire album.

"Boys," Yakov greeted them when he walked into his office, closing the door behind him with a soft click. He sat down behind the wooden desk, his face as grumpy as ever. They all mumbled a greeting, which earned them a raised eyebrow from their manager. "I will make myself clear immediately then," he continued, folding his hands under his chin. "If you want this album to happen - and don't interrupt me, Vitya - you will stop this foolish at once. There will be many more times where you'll want to celebrate, but look at you now." Yakov eyed them all, his stoic eyes lingering on all of them for several seconds.

Viktor felt the familiar feelings of guilt creep into his body when Yakov eyed him. He hated it when Yakov scolded him like that, and he always felt as if he had failed their manager.

"But thank the lord that Yuuri had enough sense to _not_ participate in Chris's foolish games," Yakov continued when his gaze lingered on the vocalist. Yuuri remained impassive, to Viktors surprise.

"Sorry, boss," Chris answered, "it won't happen again."

"It better not," Yakov growled. "With Yuuri in your band, this album has the possibility to be something great. I know the vision you've had for the past years, Viktor, we can make that happen."

Viktor could feel goosebumbs all over his body at that statement. _This was happening. This was_ actually _happening!_

"But," Yakov continued again, and Viktor could feel the buildup of excitement fade away instantly, "I need to know for sure whether you're all on board with this. Phichit and Yuuri, I know you guys are still in college, how do you plan on managing the band with that?"

Phichit, to his credits, actually looked like his usual self when he spoke, instead of the hungover mess he had been in the car. "I am in my last year, sir. Just a few exams left and I'll be done. If needed, I can postpone those exams until after the debut of the album, or when there is time. I talked this through with some of my supervisors, they didn't think it would be a problem since I've been a top student since I started there."

Yakov nodded in approval. "Good, be prepared to postpone your graduation. After the debut of the album, I want you guys to tour as soon as possible. Get the music out there, make a name. We will start with smaller venues, gradually working our way to bigger places. But we will surely have a talk about that in the future." Yakov looked at Yuuri again. "And you?"

"I'm in my last semester as well, and will graduate in a few weeks. I only have to defend my thesis and I have one last exam. I highly doubt it'll be a problem to fit that in with the band," Yuuri shrugged, seemingly not concerned at all.

Yakov raised an eyebrow. "And what will you do when it _will_ become a problem?"

"I will postpone graduation. There is no reason to doubt me, sir. I knew what I signed up for when I said I would join the band."

And Yuuri wasn't lying. Over the past two weeks, Viktor had seen himself how dedicated Yuuri was. Yuuri was usually the first one to arrive at the studio, humming new songs or practicing their older ones, growing more confident with his voice and their rythms with each passing day. He left the studio only when the rest did, which meant Viktor and Yuuri had practiced together on a few late nights. Yuuri juggled working at Yutopia and his schoolwork during the free time he had, often studying until early in the morning. The kid deserved a fucking medal.

"Don't doubt him, Yakov," Viktor butted in, earning a surprised look from both his bandmates and their manager. "He knows what he's doing. _We_ know what we're doing."

"I'm still your manager, Vitya, and I hold the right the doubt each and everyone of you."

"And I'm the leader of this band, and I'm telling you to not doubt Yuuri." The words left his mouth before he realized, and it were the shocked gasps from Chris and Phichit that made Viktor realise what he had said. Or rather, to _whom_ he had said those words.

Yakov's face had turned even more sour than before, the lines deeper and darker than usual. "Boys," he grunted, his eyes never leaving Viktors, "could you give Viktor and I a moment?"

Within seconds, Chris, Phichit and Yuuri left the room, patting Viktors back or squeezing his shoulder as some sort of mental support. Viktor appreciated it, knowing full well he would need it. When it came to Yakov, it was always best to agree with the stone-faced manager. Viktor wanted to open his mouth and apologize, but felt he couldn't. Apologizing meant he disagreed with his earlier statement, which wasn't the case. Yuuri was the best thing that had happened to their band in a long time and Viktor refused to let anyone feel bad about their new vocalist.

"Stop thinking and start talking, Vitya," Yakov said, his voice low and clearly unhappy. "I can see the cogs in your head turning like crazy."

"If you want me to apologize, I won't," Viktor murmured after a few seconds of awkward silence. "Yuuri is amazing and the band needs him. I won't let you drag him down."

"Does the band need him, or do _you_ need him?"

Silence fell between them, Yakov simply looking at him. But Viktor could feel that the simple gaze, that feigned indifference, wasn't so simple at all. It held layers and layers of meaning, unspoken words and still unanswered questions. It held all the doubts and curiosities, hidden behind one big mask of indifference, perfected throughout the many years the mask had been needed. Yakov had been in the entertainment world for ages now, starting out as a young teenager with hopes and dreams, and building his own empire from the ground. It was an impressive feat, and Yakov was highly respected in their world, but it had called early on for the mask of indifference. Viktor could understand that; you couldn't run a business when your emotions showed too much. You couldn't make young and excited people great when your own emotions got in the way. You couldn't break young and hopeful artists when you were on the verge of tears yourself.

But Viktor had known Yakov for years now, and he had learned to read between the lines. Viktor had learned to understand the complex person that was Yakov Feltsman, though he had to give a lot of credits to Lilia for that. She had been a silent translator for many years, pointing at the quirks and motions Yakov had that most would not see.

"What do you mean?" Viktor asked, confused.

"Oh no, Vitya, I'll let you come to that conclusion yourself." Yakov shook his head. "But let me make something clear. The band is _always_ your number one priority, no matter the rest. The band comes before _everything_ and _everyone_ else."

~

Viktor expected to be bombarded with questions the moment he stepped out of Yakovs office, but he was greeted with silence. The hallway was empty, save for Yuuri who was leaning against the wall opposite of the office, phone in his hand, the light softly illuminating his face.

When he noticed Viktor, however, Yuuri looked up, quickly pocketing his phone. "Hey," he greeted softly.

"Hey," Viktor said, internally wincing at his loud voice reasonating through the deserted hallway. "Where are the others?"

"Getting some coffee." Yuuri pushed himself off the wall, walking alongside Viktor as they unconsciously started the short trip to the studio. "I wanted to thank you for having my back without their drunk faces snickering behind us." Yuuri shrugged.

Viktor snorted. "Fair point," he agreed, because he could already imagine the laughing faces from their bandmates, "but no need to thank me. You're one of us now, of course I have your back."

Yuuri smiled at him, one of those wide and honest grins that pulled and tuggen at Viktors heart in the must unfamiliar and painfully pleasant ways. "So," he said, the smile still bright, "I'm officially on board?"

" _Please_ ," Viktor huffed as they walked up the stairs. "You have been on board from the moment you said yes."

Yuuri laughed, the sound sounding loud and carefree. Viktor found he liked it when Yuuri smiled or laughed; it made the world just a little brighter. "Just making sure, you know," he said as he looked at Viktor, "since your _stalking_ wasn't obvious enough."

"It wasn't stalking!" Viktor gasped, his hand on his heart in a weak attempt to pretend he was hurt. "It was a persuasion technique, and considering how you are here, I'd say it was succesfull."

"Are you always this pushy with all the girls, Viktor?" Yuuri joked as he unlocked the studio. It smelled like home, as it always did. Their instruments were still laying where they had left them the day before, cables covering the floor and hoodies carelessly thrown on the spare chairs.

"No," Viktor answered as he entered the studio, "only with cute guys that have the most amazing voice."

" _Flatterer_ ," Yuuri mumbled, but Viktor could see how Yuuri's cheeks darkened and how Yuuri was nervously nibbling on his bottom lip.

Yuuri tended to be confident, Viktor had learned, walking around like he owned the place and knew damn well what he was worth (which was a lot, in Viktor's humble opinion). _A rockstar aura_ , Viktor had thought a few days ago. But sometimes, Yuuri's confident persona would waver and a much shyer person would be visible through the cracks. As much as Viktor liked Yuuri's confident side, he enjoyed the softer side of their vocalist, like the side he was seeing at this very moment. Yuuri was nervously tugging at the hem of his sleeves, and continued the nibbling on his lower lip. Compliments tended to throw Yuuri off balance and dissolve him into this flustered mess. Viktor silently wondered about the hows and whys behind the transformation.

"You wanna practice a bit while we wait for Chris and Phichit?" Viktor asked after a few minutes of silence, clearing the awkward feeling as if nothing had happened.

Yuuri changed instantly: Gone was the blushing mess and back was the confident vocalist. "Actually," he said as he sat down in one of the chairs, "I wanted you to look at two songs I wrote last night." He handed Viktor his now familiar notebook, filled with unfinished lyrics and new chords. Yuuri wasn't exactly skilled in playing an instrument, but he could make a simple tune. And a simple tune was all they sometimes needed to make an actual song.

Viktor read through the lyrics, both amazed and intrigued. "You wrote this _last night_?"

Yuuri shrugged, but nodded after a few seconds. "Inspiration struck me." He grabbed Viktors guitar to clumsily play some of the chords he had written down. "The songs are a pair," he explained as he looked at his hands, trying to position them right. "The first one is a softer song, not like something you guys have played before, but I really like the idea of a ballad - a _rock_ ballad - on our album. the second song is much louder and rougher, and well... _rockier_."

"Interesting," Viktor hummed as he took his guitar back from Yuuri. "Sing the first one for me, I'll play along and freestyle. We can just go with it, I suppose."

Yuuri laughed, but agreed nonetheless. In the end, Yuuri ended up humming more of the melody than actually singing to it, but it allowed Viktor to get a feel for the melody and play along.

The melody was indeed soft, kind almost. Viktor could envision it being played on his acoustic guitar, with the bass and drums halfway chiming in to built the song to something bigger and bolder, until it would fade down again into something small and breakable.

"I like it," Viktor said after they had been freestyling for a while. "What's the idea behind the song?"

"Are you familiar with the three different types of love?" Yuuri asked, putting his notebook down for a while. "Well," he continued when Viktor shook his head, "this song is about unconditional love, or _agape_ as it is called. It is the type of love between family or instant friends. You never doubt the love from them, because it is a given. You don't ask for it, neither do you expect it. It's just there, no strings attached."

Viktor hummed in appreciation. "And the second song?"

"That is about the sexual type of love, or more commonly known as _eros_."

" _Yuuri_ ," Viktor said, stretching the last part of Yuuri's name with a teasing voice, "just what kind of inspiration did you have last night?"

Yuuri punched Viktors arm. "It sounds lame, but the song has the potential to be good, Viktor."

"Fine, fine," Viktor said, putting his hands up in defeat. "Let's hear it then."

The song, as it turned out, indeed had the pontential to be _good_. Viktor could already envision their instruments sounding hard and raw, and Yuuri's voice taking the entire song to the next level.

They were busy talking about the melody for different parts of the song, when the door opened and their fellow bandmembers finally joined them. They looked sober enough, ready enough, and Viktor felt excitement built in his chest.

"What took you so long?" Yuuri asked, glancing from Christ and Phichit to the watch on his wrist and back.

"We wanted to make sure we wouldn't accidentally bump into an angry Yakov on the way back, so we waited for his lunchbreak to start," Phichit explained. He took off his coat and threw it next to one of the neglected hoodies.

Chris followed the example, before sitting down in the chair next to Viktor. "What have you two been up to?" he asked, nodding to the guitar on Viktors lap.

"Yuuri wrote two songs," Viktor answered, smiling at Yuuri as he spoke. "So we played around with them a bit."

"Really?" Phichit eyed them with curiosity, sitting behind his beloved drums. Viktor admired the younger's enthusiasm.

"Yes," Yuuri said, opening his notebook again. "Wanna hear it?"

Chris and Phichit nodded in unision. Viktor eyed Yuuri for a moment, before slowly counting down from three.

The melody was still messy, unfamiliar and new, but Yuuri hummed and sang along with his usual confidence. It allowed Viktor to get lost in the music, to play to his hearts content. Viktor found that he liked the agape-inspired song. He could envision them on stage, just Yuuri and himself, during the first half of the song. It would create intimacy and allow feelings to be transfered between them and their audience. When Yuuri hummed the last notes, Viktor improvised, playing an intricate melody that seemlessly blended with the start of the eros-inspired song. Yuuri looked at him with surprise, but never wavered, instead belting out some improvised high notes with ease.

During the handful of times the two of them had played around with new tunes together, Viktor had learned how musical Yuuri actually was. Yuuri may not be that great with instruments, but he understoond how songs worked. He knew how to write songs and transform the ideas he wrote on paper and the music he heard in his head to turn into actual music. It was refreshing and exciting, and Viktor found he liked moments like this a lot. He liked how easy Yuuri fitted in their band, and how quickly Yuuri ahd taken it upon himself to help them with the production of the album. Yuuri was wholeheartedly dedicated and the two newly written songs were an amazing example of that.

Viktor played the last chords, before abruptly silencing the remaining sounds his guitar made. He threw Yuuri a look, a crooked smile on his lips that was reprocicated by Yuuri, before looking at their other band members with expectation.

It was silent for a few seconds, in which the four of them simply looked at one another.

"Well, _damn_." It was Phichit who broke the silence, whisteling softly. "That was unexpectedly good. Like, _really good_."

Chris hummed and nodded his head. "I can hear, obviously, that his is just a demo, but I like it." He grabbed the notebook from Yuuri, scimming over the pages. "I agree with Phichit, this shit is good." He smiled a wide grin. " _Album-worthy good_."

They ended up messing with the songs for several hours, only taking a short break to grab a quick lunch at the cafe around the corner. Though technically, they were still talking about the songs, discussing the lyrics and chord arrangement over their sandwiches. Yuuri kept on writing stuff down the entire time, both in English and Japanese. Viktor at least assumed that the foreign writing was in Yuuri's native language. They went straight back into the studio after their lunch, recording a few demos for both songs. The four of them stayed focussed and busy like that until the late evening, when Phichit announced he was getting hungry.

"How about we wrap it up for today and head over to my place?" Yuuri suggested. "I can call my mom to make us some quick diner."

"Ugh, yes please!" Phichit exclaimed. It was no secret that Phichit loved food.

"Good idea," Chris agreed. "I don't think I could cook a single thing even if I tried. My hands are _aching_."

Viktor sighed, looking down at his calloused hands as well. "I know how you feel," he said, flexing his fingers to loosen them up a little.

"Thank god we have Yuuri and his parents," Phichit said, standing up from behind his drums. He groaned loudly. "I am going to be sore as hell tomorrow."

"Means we have to practice more like this, _ne_?" Yuuri smiled. "I'll see you guys in a bit downstairs, 'kay? I'm going to make that call." He left after that, pulling the hoody he had abandoned earlier over his head and slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

Viktor watched him go, absentmindedly packing his guitar. _You're a godsent from heaven, Katsuki Yuuri_ , he thought. He left not long after that, together with Chris and Phichit, closing and locking the studio behind them. They bickered as usual as they walked down the stairs, laughing as they complained about their sore bodies.

"Though I gotta admit," Phichit said as they walked to the exit, "if this is the price we pay for making it big, I'm in."

"Mee too," Viktor said, laughing when he realised Chris had said the exact same thing at the exact same time. "We will make it, guys," he continued as he pushed open the doors. Yuuri was already waiting for them in his car, the engine rumbling softly. "I promise you, our dreams will come true."

~

As promised, four bowls filled with hot and delicious smelling food were already placed on one of the tables when they arrived at Yutopia.

Phichit squeeled with delight and practically bounced to the table, sitting down within seconds. Yuuri eyed his rommate with amusement for a few seconds, before turning his attention to Viktor and Chris. "Go on," he said, nodding towards the table, "go eat. I'll be back in a sec. I'll just let my parents know we're here and lock up the restaurant for them."

"You sure?" Viktor asked, hesitating. It felt impolite to start without Yuuri, though it was clear Chris didn't share the same sentiment. Chris was already sitting down at the table, grabbing one of the bowls with eagerness.

"I'm sure," Yuuri said. "Lesson number one: never let food from my parents go cold." He chuckled when Viktor raised a doubtful eyebrow. " _Really_ , Viktor, it's fine. Go eat, I'll be joining you before you know it."

Viktor did as he was told, watching Yuuri retreat to the back, and sat down beside Chris. He inhaled the foreign aromas and felt his stomatch tighten in anticipation. _To hell with it_. He was tired and hungry, and the food smelled too good to ignore. It tasted good too, unfamiliar, but pleasantly spicy on his tongue. "Damn," he murmured, clumsily grabbing some of the vegetables with his chopsticks, "the Katsuki's sure know their way around the kitchen."

"Trust me," Phichit sighed, putting his empty bowl down, "you haven't even tasted half of their foods yet."

Viktor snickered at the almost orgasmic-looking face Phichit was currently having. "You have experience with that other half, I presume?"

Phichit nodded enthusiastically. "When Yuuri and I started college and were assigned together to be roommates, neither of us could cook anything beyond instant noodles. His parents made him food when he went back home during the weekends to take back with him. Those meals were _everything_."

"And now?" Chris questioned, chewing thoughtfully on his udon noodles.

"Now I cook most of the time for the both of us," Yuuri answered as he suddenly sat down beside Phichit. His skilled hands picked up the chopsticks, using them with such grace and ease that Viktor found himself watching with a little jealousy. "Though we moved to a small appartment nearby a few months ago, so now we eat here quite often."

They (or well, Chris, Yuuri and Viktor) ate mostly in silence after that, occassionally talking about mundane things. They were tired, their bodies sore and still sweaty. Viktor wanted nothing more than to go home, take a shower, and sleep for hours. One look his friends told him they were thinking the same. They finished their bowls of noodles not long after that, and thanked Yuuri for the meal. Phichit stayed behind, saying he would walk back to their shared appartment with Yuuri.

"See you tomorrow then," Viktor said, holding back a tired yawn. "Be on time, okay?"

The others nodded, before saying their goodbyes. The each went different ways immediately, Yuuri and Phichit heading to their appartment in the south, Chris going to his home in the north, and Viktor heading west. Viktor pulled up his hoody higher, the coldness of the night slowly creeping in.

Once he was finally home, he took a quick shower, washing away the sweat and exhaustion from the day, before collapsing on his bed. He was asleep withing seconds, the exhaustion from the day finally too much.

He dreamt peacefully that night, about the four of them performing in a sold-out venue. He smiled in his sleep, his unconsciousness painstakingly hoping how it was reality, instead of just a dream. _Maybe some day..._


	2. Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _If we're not moving forward  
>  What are we moving for?  
> Feels like we're losing order  
> Fighting a losing war  
> We need to work this out  
> Can't do this by myself  
> How did we let it go this far?  
> Hey  
> You know it's not too late for us to make a change  
> You gotta listen to your heart what does it say?  
> No matter how much we might bend, we will not break  
> 'Cause we got what it takes to stay_
> 
> Change - One OK Rock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing but my mistakes and imagination.

Viktor was exhausted.

Viktor had anticipated the process of producing an album to be tedious. He had expected it to take a while, to slowly drain them from their energy. The production of their previous songs, when Alex had still been part of History Maker, had been a slow process as well. There had been too many arguments, too many disagreements. Viktor had always thought it was part of the process, but in hindsight he strongly believed it was because Alex had very different ideas from the rest of them, that simply didn't match. Either way, Viktor felt he would be prepared enough, mentally at least, for the production of their debuting album.

 _Wrong_.

They hadn't even been working on it for more than a week or two, but he already wished for it to be over. Apart from the two songs Yuuri had written, and the singles they had released and wanted to be revamped, they hadn't written a single song. They had been busy with recording the older songs, to get their rock sound back, and in their spare times worked on the demos for Agape and Eros. It were long and hectic days, filled with long hours of practice. His body was slowly getting used to the grueling practice, his fingers getting more calloused with each passing day. Most of the times, he enjoyed it, enjoyed the way his body ached in an almost pleasant way when he finally lay in bed, and he noticed he was getting better at playing the guitar. Not that he hadn't been good to begin with, but he was wasn't struggling as much anymore with the more difficult riffs of some of their songs.

But nevertheless, Viktor _almost_ wished for the entire process to be over. They were all tired, especially Yuuri and Phichit, who were also juggling their last weeks of college. They had promised Yakov the band would come first, but they both seemed eager to finish their studies. It was so they could leave it behind, Yuuri had told him earlier. And it made sense, did in not? Viktor was glad he had gotten his degree years ago; the idea of still having to finish his studies while working on an album sounded horrible. And if the sulking faces from their drummer and vocalist were anything to go by, they thought it was horrible too. They snapped and barked, got irritated easily, before apologizing far too many times. They would practice until Phichit couldn't drum and Yuuri couldn't sing anymore. And then it would repeat the next day, like some kind of infinite loop they were stuck in.

And Viktor hated it. He hated seeing his bandmates struggle. He hated how their inspiration for new songs had dried up as quickly as it had began. He hated how they weren't enjoying one of the most important moments of their career.

Thus, Viktor had ordered everyone to take the day off today, so they could rest. It would allow Phichit and Yuuri to write the remaining parts of their thesis, for Chris to catch up on lost sleep, and for Viktor to get his head together. And hopefully write some new songs too.

He was currently sitting on his couch, dressed in casual clothes, his feet bare, and a cup of tea on the small table beside him. It was some kind of Japanese tea, gifted to him by Yuuri. Yuuri had explained to him that green teas were the most consumed beverages in Japan, with each tea having its own specific flavor and qualities. The tea he had given Viktor was _Shincha_ , which had a fresh, vegetal aroma and a buttery texture. It tasted foreign, as did most of the Japanese foods and drinks Yuuri introduced him to, but Viktor found he rather enjoyed it. Yuuri had told Viktor that he enjoyed teas, mainly because they soothed and healed his throat. "I have to take extra good care of my throat," Yuuri had said a few days ago, a cup of fresh ginger tea in his hand, "now that I'm part of History Maker." It was also why Yuuri was gradually wearing his facemask more often when he was outside. Yuuri was really serious about the band, and as a result about preserving and protecting his voice as best as he could.

Now that Viktor thought about it, they had all become a lot more serious about the band. It was probably why they were so exhausted and on edge already. This album was the debut they had been waiting for, and they so desperately wanted to make it perfect. But Viktor could also understand the need from Phichit and Yuuri to finish their degree as soon as possible. What if, a year down the road, they realised it wasn't working? It would be better to have a degree to fall back on, instead of still having to finish it. It was one of the reasons why Viktor himself still gave guitar lessons to kids every Saturday, just as a backup plan.

Viktor sighed deeply, stretching his tired limbs. He had started to work out again with Chris during their rare spare time, to strengthen their muscles and to boost their energy levels. Most of the times were grueling, but his slowly improving stamina during band practice made it all worth it.

He sipped his tea, appreciating how it tasted on his tongue and how it slid down his throat. The notebook on his lap, however, was still as empty as ever, his guitar still untouched in the corner. Inspiration, it seemed, was nowhere to be found. _For fuck's sake_.

Rationally speaking, Viktor knew he couldn't force the songs to come out of his hands like he was currently trying. If anything, the way he was going at it now would probably ruin any chance at inspiration he might get. The point was, he just didn't know where they wanted to go with this album. Their older songs were sounding a lot better than they had at the time of their release (when Alex had still provided the vocals), but it was still obvious they were released as singles. And while Viktor loved the two new songs Yuuri had written, they were _different_. The sound, the lyrics - it was all different from their previous work and Viktor felt they needed something to tie everything together. Something that would fill the gap between old and new, between then and now.

But his brain wouldn't help, staying silent from the lack of any new ideas. It was immensely frustrating.

Viktor was _this_ close to flinging the blank notebook against the wall, when his doorbell rang. He raised a confused eyebrow - he wasn't expecting anybody. But he got up from the couch nonetheless, groaning loudly when his muscles protested, and yelled an "I'm coming!" to whoever it was on the other side of his door. He moved around the small table, putting his cup of tea down, and walked to his front door, cursing under his breath to whoever dared to distrub his brooding.

He swung open the door, ready to tell the person to _kindly fuck off_ , but it was none other then Yuuri standing on his porch.

"Yuuri," he said in surprise. "Wha-"

"I couldn't work at home anymore," Yuuri rambled, cutting Viktor off. "Phichit is too stressed about his thesis, blasting all this shitty music from the speakers, and drinking way too much caffeinated drinks so he is awake enough to finish it before midnight. And I went to the restaurant, but it is packed with customers and Minami was way too excited." He looked at Viktor sheepishly. "So I was kinda hoping I could write my report here?"

It was then that Viktor noticed the heavy-looking backpack hanging on Yuuri's shoulder and the dark circles under his brown eyes.

"That is," Yuuri continued in a softer, smaller voice, "if you're not busy."

Viktor shook his head, opening the door wider, welcoming Yuuri in. "Not at all. Come in, make yourself comfortable. Shall I make you some tea?"

Yuuri nodded, an exhaused but grateful smile on his lips. "Yes please, that would be nice."

Viktor moved to the kitchen, following Yuuri with his eyes as he filled the kettle with water. Yuuri had taken off his shoes, positioning them neatly next to Viktor's messy stash of shoes. He was currently wandering into the living room, eyeing his surroundings.

"You've got a nice place," Yuuri said, dropping the backpack on the floor and taking a seat on the couch.

"Thanks," Viktor answered, grabbing a cup from the cabinet to fill with boiling water. "It's not much, but it's home."

His house wasn't big - heck, Chris his appartment was bigger - but he didn't mind. It had a kitchen, living room, bathroom, small spare room and bedroom. It was enough for him, more than enough. The rooms itself were mostly bare, the walls still white (since he found he could never find a color he liked enough), and they were filled with only the necessairy furniture. The walls, however white they may be, were packed with posters from bands and concerts he had enjoyed or seen when he was younger.

Yuuri was eyeing said posters when Viktor placed the cup of tea on the table in front of him. "Did you actually go to all these concerts?" Yuuri asked after thanking for the tea.

Viktor said down beside Yuuri, grabbing his (now lukewarm) tea. "I did, yes."

" _Wow_ ," Yuuri exclaimed, impressed. "But there are so many!"

Viktor shrugged. "Perks of having parents that are famous in the music industry, I suppose."

"Must have been fun," Yuuri said sincerly.

"Most of the times, but it wasn't always as amazing as people tend to assume."

Sure, Viktor had loved all the free concerts, meeting the artists, and the access to exclusive parties when he was old enough, but it had also been a lonely life. His mother would be touring around the world most of the year, while his father was off to God knew where to make new deals an compose new songs. So Viktor had left the moment he could, covering his departure with the lie of wanting to study in the States. He hadn't truly wanted it, terrified of the idea of leaving St. Petersburg, but he had been in the States often enough and Chris had been willing enough to tag along. He could still remember how much he had wanted _out_ back then, away from the too big and too empty house, away from his parents constantly leaving him. If he left himself, they couldn't leave him anymore.

"Most things aren't as amazing as people like to think," Yuuri spoke, bringing Viktor back to the here and now. "But it is in our human nature to pretend everything is going amazing."

"Sad, really, if you think about it." Nowadays, people were so focused on displaying their life as flawless to the world around them. Heck, one look at his Instagram could easily fool him into thinking that people lived the most amazing, most adventurous lives.

"It is," Yuuri agreed. "I feel like we've forgotten somewhere along the way that it is okay to not be okay, or to be imperfect, or to have flaws."

"You might be right about that," Viktor mused.

Yuuri shrugged. "It's something we see a lot in psychology. Speaking of which, I better start writing if I want to finish this beast so I can graduate as soon as possible." He got up from the couch and grabbed his backpack from the floor. "I'll just sit at the table. You can just continue whatever it is you were doing, I won't be bothered by it." He smiled one of those smiles that tugged at Viktor's heart, and sat down at the table. Within seconds, he had his laptop on the table, books and notebooks on the side, and music softly coming from the headphones on his head.

Viktor took the liberty to look at the vocalist for a while. Yuuri was wearing his signature 'stylishly comfortable' look again, dressed in dark jeans and an oversized jumper. He wore his glasses and had kept his beanie on his head, pieces of his fringe almost falling into his dark eyes. The headphones he wore were black, some unfamiliar (Japanese?) brand written in white on the sides. Whatever song Yuuri was playing, he probably thought it was a good song, bobbing his leg up and down on a beat Viktor couldn't hear.

Viktor had thought it before and he thought it again now: Yuuri looked cute like this, so different from his stage persona. They had yet to play live together, but Viktor hoped to change that soon. He knew that Yakov wanted them to tour as soon as they would have released the album, but Viktor wanted to do some lives before that. There were some amazing live-houses nearby they had played before, when Alex had still been their vocalist. Yakov, however, hadn't been too thrilled about the idea when Viktor proposed it a few days ago, but he hadn't given Viktor a solid no either, which meant there was room for Viktor to persuade their grouchy manager.

Viktor missed performing in front of an audience. He missed the thrill and excitement, the way adrenaline and nerves clashed and coursed through his body. But most of all, he wanted to perform with Yuuri as their vocalist. Yuuri had allowed the dream Viktor had had for all these years, to morphe into reality. And Viktor knew that Chris and Phichit thought the same. With Yuuri, they were finally able to bring History Maker to a new level - to actually honor their band name. The name itself had started out as a joke, with the three (before Alex joined them) of them constantly saying how they wanted to make history. A night of going out and drinking too much het resulted in them laughingly saying they should just refer to themselves as history makers, since they had probably already made history by forming a band and not completely suck at it. It had been stupid and childish, but the name had stuck. And when Alex joined them, and they had to discuss a name for the band, they hadn't been able to agree on a new name, deciding they should just stick with History Maker instead. Viktor actually grew fond of the name as time passed; it reminded him of all the ups and downs they had discovered along their relatively short path in chasing success.

Perhaps, he thought as he looked at Yuuri, the change in their music wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Perhaps it was actually a good thing, a new path they could follow and unravel. And their new music was still rock, after all, just slightly different.

_Change, huh?_

Viktor grabbed his notebook and pen, hastily scribbling down the words and sentences that were forming in his head and seemed to come straight from his soul. He penned it down like there was no tomorrow, afraid the words, chord arrangements, and drum patterns would leave him the moment he stopped writing. As he wrote, the song slowly came to life, the sentences, verses, and bridges starting to make sense. _This_ was the moment Viktor had been waiting for all morning - heck, _all week_ \- and he would be damnet to let that moment slip through his fingers.

He had been writing for what felt like hours, immersed in his sudden burst of inspiration, when a grunting noise from the table bulled him from his work. Yuuri was stretching his body, his jumper moving up and exposing some of the cream-colored waist. _A rather toned waist_ , Viktor thought absentmindedly.

"You okay?" he checked, putting the pen down and flexing his sore fingers. It had been a while since he had hold a pen this long.

Yuuri didn't answer immediately, his eyes still focussed on the screen in front of him, his eyes scanning over words from left to right rapidly.

"Yuuri?" Viktor tried again, but Yuuri held up his hand, silently asking Viktor to stay quiet. Viktor noticed that Yuuri had taken off his headphones, his leg no longer bobbing up and down to the beat Viktor hadn't been able to hear.

It was silent for another few minutes, save for Yuuri typing and clicking away on his laptop. Viktor wanted to talk, or to move, but he stayed where he was, his mouth shut. Yuuri's face was scrunched up in concentration and Viktor didn't want to disturb that. He knw how difficult it could be to get lost in such intense moments of focus.

Viktor's resolve to stay silent however, was slowly crumbling with each passing minute (he had never been a exceptionally patient man), when Yuuri _finally_ shut his laptop with a soft _thud_.

"Hale- _fucking_ -lujah," Yuuri exclaimed through gritted teeth. He had taken off his glasses and was rubbing furiously in his eyes.

"You okay?" Viktor asked again, twisting his torse so he could look at Yuur with more ease. The notebook and pen were still on his lap, but he was leaning and the big pillows, the awkward positioning of his torso not as uncomfortable as one would think.

Yuuri nodded, before putting his glasses back on. "I'm more than okay," he said, leaning back in his chair and flashing Viktor a tired smile. "I may or may not have just uploaded the final version of my thesis."

"Which means...?" Viktor asked hesitantly. He _probably_ knew what it meant (he wasn't _that_ daft), but he also didn't want to assume something incorrectly.

"That I'm done with college."

"Aren't they still able to fail you?" Viktor wanted to smack himself the moment those words left his lips. _Way to encourage someone, you idiot_.

"Oh, please," Yuuri huffed, "as if they are going to fail _this_." He made a vague motion towards his laptop. "I've seen people graduate with the worst possible thesis. And let me tell you, my thesis isn't that bad."

"Oh," Viktor said sheepishly. How was he supposed to know? It had been years since he wrote his own thesis and that hadn't exactly been something worthy of an award. Though he had still passed, so perhaps Yuuri had a valid point. "Well, in that case, congratulations!"

"Thanks," Yuuri chuckled. He got up from the chair and stretched his body. Viktor could practically hear the joints crack due to the release from the pressure of sitting in the same crouched position for hours. "What have you been doing?" Yuuri asked as he walked to the couch and plopped down beside Viktor.

"I've been trying to write new songs for our album."

Yuuri tsk-ed. "Weren't you the one ordering us to take the day off and to not think about the album for twentyfour hours?"

"Yes," Viktor said, because he indeed had orderen _them_ to not think about the album on their day off, "but I never sayd anything about myself."

"So sly." Yuuri rolled his eyes. "You know we're no good withour our leader, _ne_? So don't be stupid and fuck yourself up like this."

"I'm not!" Viktor protested, but Yuuri's unimpressed look told him that Yuuri disagreed. "Okay, maybe a little," he pouted.

Yuuri threw him another glare that could rival Yuri Plizetsky's.

"I'll take better care of myself from now on, okay? Happy now?"

"Very," Yuuri said as he nodded. "Now show me what you've been working on."

"But we just said no wor-"

" _Viktor_ ," Yuuri drawled.

They locked eyes, staring intensely at one another for a few seconds, before they both burst out into laughing.

"Fine," Viktor eventually gave in, handing Yuuri the notebook that now had sheets filled with lyrics and melodies. "I'll make us something to drink to celebrate you finishing college, and you can have a look at the stuff I wrote." He stood up from the couch, inwardly groaning at the soreness in his limbs, and moved to the kitchen.

He kept an eye on Yuuri, however, as he fumbled through his fridge and cabinets on his search for something celebratory they could drink. His fridge, however, was unsurprisingly more or less empty. He had some diet coke, some orange juice, some apples (because he hated overripe apples with a passion) and some lemon juice. It was a rather pathetic sight. He sighed and grabbed the coke, praying he still had some bacardi left somewhere from his nights of drinking at home with Chris. And the gods seemed to smile down on him, as he found a bottle with the clear liquor in one of the cabinets. Viktor grabbed two glasses, and filled them with the drinks, topping it of with some lemon juice. It was probably the most pathetic attempt at a celebration drink, but Viktor found he couldn't care less. It was the thought that counted, right?

He still eyed Yuuri, who seemed immersed in the notebook, tapping his fingers to understand the rythm Viktor had penned down. "Hey Viktor," he said, looking up from the papers in his hand.

"Hm?" Viktor hummed, grabbing the drinks and walking back to the couch.

"Show me the melody."

Viktor obligued, putting the drinks down in front of them, as he went to grab his guitar. He could feel the excitement creeping back into his body, just as it had when Yuuri and he had first toyed around with Agape and Eros. He took his time to tune his guitar, as the one he kept at home wasn't used as often as the guitar in the studio.

Yuuri looked at him intensely, his eyes dark, his face blank. But Viktor kept on playing, the chords suddenly clear to him. _Oh yes_ , the melody all of sudden made sense. He could hear and feel their old style in it, feel the way they had played when Alex had still ben their vocalist, but he could also hear the new influence, that little bit of spice Yuuri had brought along. Viktor started huming along, trying to get the song across to Yuuri the way he envisioned it in his hand.

And Yuuri somehow understood, humming along and mumbling the words, slowly gaining confidence the longer they played. He was completely in his element now, Viktor noticed. Yuuri was one with the music, his dark eyes focused on the lyrics, but his head bobbing along with the rythm Viktor played. He started improvising here and there, ad libbing when it seemed to feel right, or lowering his voice when Viktor slowed his strumming down.

And Viktor felt at home. His heart was aching in his chest and he suddenly felt like crying (not that he did). He had dreamt about this for _years_ , first on his own, then with Chris, and lastly with Phichit. They had dreamed together, hoping and wanting, playing and practicing and making the most stupid riffs in the hopes to make it. They had allowed Alex into their group, hoping his voice would take them to the top. They had worked their asses off, playing in live houses, performing at different festivals, desperately trying to make a name for themselves. They had released some songs with the help of Yakov and an entire production team, they had done some small interviews for silly magazines. They had given it their all. _He_ had given it his all.

And he knew he was naive, but he was also stubborn, and giving up had never been an option in his decisions. Quitting had never been an option. So when Alex had quit on _them_ , leaving them hanging at what could be their debut, Viktor's heart had _shattered_. His heart had been ripped from his body, along with his hopes and dreams, and it had been torn apart. He had been left to his own devices to pick up the pieces, with both Chris and Phichit being just as heartbroken. Viktor could still vividly remember the phonecall he had had with Chris that morning - Alex hadn't even talked to Viktor personally - and just thinking about it now filled him with all those broken emotions. Viktor had been a mess, throwing things and screaming into his pillow. His passion, his life, his dream - it had all shattered down on him within seconds. Viktor had strongly believed their band would be over. There were many great singers out there, but Alex had broken Viktor's trust in people. There might be many great singers willing to help their band out, but Viktor knew he wouldn't just take anybody on board. He would be too picky, too anxious to have someone join them and then dump then again later on.

And yet he had accepted Yuuri like he had always been a part of them. Heck, he had practically stalked Yuuri to get him on board. It might have been the performance Yuuri gave, the looks he had given the audience, or that incredible voice he had sung with, but Viktor had been in love. Not with Yuuri, no, but he had fallen in love with Yuuri's voice in an instant. And to have Yuuri here, belting out a song Viktor had written, was almost too much for his fragile heart to bear.

Viktor strummed the last chords, before looking at Yuuri expectantly. He needed Yuuri to like it, to know Yuuri would give this song his all. This song was going to be theirs, and it was going to make the album into something amazing. It was going to be the song they would remember as the point of no return. Hence why Viktor _needed_ Yuuri to understand the signifance of the song.

"Fuck," Yuuri said after a pieceful silence, his voice tired and raspy, both from exhaustion and from belting out notes he probably shouldn't without a proper warm-up. "That was... _intense_." He looked at Viktor, his eyes showing far too many emotions for Viktor to deciphere.

"A positive or negative 'intense'?" Viktor asked, putting his guitar down. He reached for his drink and took a sip, grimacing at the bitter taste of it. The coke had lost it's fizz, tasting more or less blant. It didn't mix very well with the alcohol. Yuuri didn't seem to mind - _or he's too kind to tell,_ Viktor thought - taking eager sips from the beverage.

Yuuri hummed, looking back at the noteback he had placed on the table after they had stopped playing around. "Positive, definately positive. It's good, and I think if we add the drums and bass, we can make it badass."

"Badass," Viktor repeated thoughtfully, as if he was testing the way the word sounded on his own tongue. He liked the word, liked the ring it had to it.

"Yeah, badass." Yuuri grinned. "Wanna play again and record it, so we can make a demo of it once we get back into the studio?"

"Yes please," Viktor said, grinning just as widely as Yuuri was.

~

They played around with the song until the sun was setting. Viktors fingers were starting to ache and Yuuri's voice was starting to waver, their bodies drained from energy. But they were happily listening at the decent demo Viktor had recorded on his laptop, trying to add in the parts Chris and Phichit would play with a synthesizer programm. It wouldn't sound as good as the actual instruments, but it gave them a better idea of what it would sound like. And oh, how Viktor liked the sound of it. And judging from the way Yuuri was smiling and swaying his body on the couch to the music, he thought the same. The song itself was a bit heavier instrumental wise, filled with riffs and beats. Yuuri's vocals would also be more intense than it had been, but Viktor liked it. Plus, the song might be one of those songs that would get better with each live they played, as the crowd would sing along and share their energy.

Viktor also realized he liked fooling around this way, with just the two of them. Yuuri was surprisingly musical, and his input was refreshing. It was new and exciting, and Viktor had the idea they worked quite well together. They could help eachother at the parts where one of them lacked the proper knowledge or ability, Yuuri explaining about the vocal part to Viktor and Viktor in return explaining about his reasoning behind different drum patterns and chord arrangement.

When they weren't talking about the song or their own music, they talked about other experiences they had had with music. Viktor was shocked when Yuuri told him that he had never been to an actual concert in his entire life.

"You mean, like _never_?" Viktor put the slice of pizza in his hand down, the shock too grand for him to continue eating. They had gotten hungry after a while, and since Viktors cabinets were empty, save from some horrible instant food, they had decided to order pizza. Yuuri told Viktor that he usually didn't order in, specifically because he used to gain weight easily as a child, but he didn't mind it every once in a while. Viktor silently made the promise with himself to stock up on some food more often, so they didn't have to order in every time Yuuri would come over. _That is, assuming he will come over more often_.

"Never," Yuuri confirmed, biting into his peperoni pizza like he hadn't just told that shocking knowledge.

" _How_?"

Yuuri just shrugged. "I have been to a few festivals when I still lived in Japan, and I have tried going to a few here, but usually there was either no time or no money."

It made sense, Viktor thought. Besides, there were many people that had never been to a proper concert in their life at their age, with time and money sparse, or with personal problems in the way. Viktor had simply assumed that Yuuri would at least have been to one concert in his life, because Yuuri loved music with his entire being. "At least you've been to a few festivals," Viktor joked, as he continued eating again, "so you're not completely lost."

Yuuri snorted and punched Viktor against his arm. "Thanks for deeming me not completely lost, oh mighty leader."

Viktor couldn't help but laugh, the statement sounding so ridiculous. Yes, Viktor was the leader of their band, but he didn't see himself as some kind of holy leader. He was a member of the band, just as the rest of them. They were all equals and they would always be.

"You have been to many concerts, right?" Yuuri asked. He had tucked his legs under him, inspecting the new slice of pizza before deeming it good enough to eat. "What was your favourite concert?"

"Probably Metallica, though I don't think I can choose a favourite concert." Viktor answered almost immediately. "Oh, no, scratch that, maybe one of the concerts of Muse or Linkin Park - _Yuuri_ , I can't choose," he exclaimed, pouting. "How am I supposed to choose when I have been to so many of them?" His eyes automatically went to his walls, filled with years and years of memories from all the concerts he had been to, ranging from pop to rock, and from classical to instrumental - he had probably seen it all. And yet, the concerts had never bored him, allowing him instead to grow fond of showmanship and of the idea of touring. As much as it had stung to see his parents so little when he was younger, he supposed he had to thank them for the part of his life that was hanging on his walls. If it hadn't been for them and their involvement in the music industry, he would have never been to so many concerts nor would he have met some amazing artists and bands.

"What's it like, those concerts in sold out stadia?" Yuuri had put his pizza down, sipping instead on the diet coke (not spiked with bitter alcohol this time). There was some kind of excitement showing in his eyes, some kind of challenge.

"They are amazing," Viktor said fondly, thinking of the few he had been to. He liked smaller concerts as well, but being there, amid thousands of people with a love for the same music, singing and dancing to the live performances of a lifetime was something else entirely. "It's _more_ than amazing. It is... I can't even explain the feeling, but it's like suddenly you're one. And to see bands perform that good they can reach each and every single person in that stadium is almost magical."

"Then let's aim for that," Yuuri said, as if he had accepted an internal challenge. "Let's aim for sold out stadiums. I want to play like that for people, like proper rockstars, where we reach to each and every single person in that stadium. Where we give them the performance of a lifetime. I want our concerts to top the ones that are your favourite."

Viktor fell silent, not sure how to respond to Yuuri's declaration. He saw a fire in Yuuri's face that he felt inside himself. He _knew_ that fire, knew how it burned in his veins, knew how it had clawed it's way through his body for years now, always at the surface, ready to come out when needed. "Yes," he finally said, looking at Yuuri, their faces suddenly serious, the words weighing heavy in the air. "Yes," he repeated, strongly this time, "that's our goal. And we will make it, Yuuri, we will make it together."

"Yes, we will."

And Viktor suddenly didn't doubt about that at all, as long as Yuuri was by their side.

~

It was early in the morning when Yuuri finally left, his heavy backpack on his shoulder and the circles under his eyes darker than they had been this morning. And although the smile on his lips was tired, it was also a happy smile, a smile that reached Yuuri's tired eyes.

"Thank you," Yuuri said sincerly, "for letting me work here."

Viktor shook his head. "Don't worry about it, you're welcome here anytime. You're a friend, right? And friends are always welcome here." He smiled at Yuuri, watching the nervous tension leaving the younger's body. For some reason, Yuuri had seemed a bit nervous, for a reason Viktor probably wouldn't understand. "Besides, I should thank you. If it weren't for you, I would probably still be stuck with a blank sheet in front of me. I really like us working on songs together, Yuuri, I truly do."

"Me too." Yuuri smiled shortly, before yawning unexpectedly. They both chuckled at that. "Though I better head home now and catch some sleep."

"You sure you don't want me to drive you home?" Viktor asked, worry creeping into his voice. The neighbourhood here wasn't as bad, but it could get rough here sometimes. He didn't want anything happening to Yuuri when he could have easily avoided it by driving Yuuri home.

Yuuri shook his head. "I'm sure, I don't mind the walk. I'll text you when I get home, and if I don't feel safe or anything, I'll call you." He suddenly moved, throwing his arms around Viktors neck in an unexpected, though not unwelcome, embrace. "Thank you, Viktor," Yuuri breathed against Viktors neck. "Thank you for everything."

And although Viktor didn't quite comprehend what Yuuri meant by _everything_ , he held the vocalist in his arms, returning the embracing. "You're welcome," he mumbled, breathing in the masculine scent that belonged to Yuuri. "And thank you too." _Thank you for joining us_ , he thought, but didn't say. _Thank you for staying with us. For wanting to be one of us. For being you_.

Yuuri let go of him after a few seconds, smiling tiredly. "I'll see you tomorrow in the studio, _ne_?"

Viktor nodded. "I'll bring the demo with me, then we can show it to Chris and Phichit."

"Great. See you tomorrow!" And with that, Yuuri turned around, hoisting his backpack better over his shoulder. Viktor watched him go, watched the small frame retreat into the darkness untill he couldn't see him anymore. Only then did he get back inside, closing and locking the door behind him.

He felt drained, just as he had felt this morning, but it was a different kind of drained. Sure, he still felt he could sleep for days, but he felt content. Suddenly, all didn't seem as dark anymore as it had this morning. It was completely understandable that the album was getting on their nerves a bit, and that they felt lost and hopeless every now and then. He shouldn't have compared this album with the songs they had made with Alex. They were different now, not only because they had a different vocalist, but also because they had different visions, plans, and deadlines.

Vikter absentmindedly cleaned up the table, bringing their glasses and empty pizza boxes to his kitchen. Maybe he should stop trying to compare the situation they were in now with the situation they were in with Alex. Alex and Yuuri weren't comparible in any way, so the situation wouldn't be comparible either.

But then why had Viktor been doing just that?

He sighed, the sound loud in the now empty house, and threw away the pizza boxes. The question stayed in his head, unanswered. Why had he been comparing their situation then with their situation now? It wasn't fair, was it? Not to Alex, not to Yuuri, and most importantly, not to their band. He had been trying so desperately to make it better, to do better, to not make the same mistake they had with Alex, but could he really call Alex a mistake?

No, he couldn't.

Alex hadn't been a mistake and it was unfair of Viktor to refer to their former vocalist as such. Yes, Viktor was still bitter about the sudden departure, but hadn't he talked this through with Yakov already? Alex had never intended to stay with them till the end, and Viktor shouldn't have expected him to. And yes, Alex hadn't reached out to him, but Viktor hadn't exactly reached out to Alex either, had he? He hadn't even tried contacting their former vocalist, instead letting him be led by the bitterness and anger he had felt inside.

Viktor washed the glasses, drying them and putting them back into the cabinet, while his thoughts were going a hundred miles per hour. In a sense, Viktor had been a terrible leader, had he not? He had ignored all the signs, in the naive hope things would get better. He had ignored the worries Chris and Phichit had slowly voiced, had ignored them in favor of hearing a lie. And that had been wrong on his part.

Viktor groaned loudly, suddenly so fed up with his naive nature and childish acts. He was supposed to be the adult, the leader, the one guiding them to do better, to _be_ better, but he had been the worst of them all. And he didn't wanted to talk everything Alex had said and done right, but where there were fights, there were always at least two at fault.

He moved to his bathroom, taking a quick shower to soothe his sore muscles and to relax his mind. Not that it helped much. His thoughts were still all over the place, going back an forth, not sure what to think. Even when he was laying in bed, waiting for Yuuri to text that he had made it home safe, his thoughts wouldn't stop. It was one of the things Viktor hated about himself. Most of the times he hid behind the façade of naive positivity, scared of the thoughts that would creep through the cracks if he wasn't watching. Once those thoughts started, they wouldn't stop, going on and on until it drove Viktor mad.

The soft ping from his phone pulled him out of his thoughts a bit, and Viktor smiled when he read that Yuuri was safely home and currently putting a tired Phichit to bed. He texted a quick response back, wishing the both of them a good night sleep and put his phone on silent. He was tired and the brooding thoughts didn't exactly help, draining his already tired mind further and further. But no matter how tired he was, he tossed and turned for quite a while, and when he did manage to fall asleep, it was to a restless night, filled with strange dreams and waking up far too many times.

Viktor woke up feeling more tired than he had the day before.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, this was a bitch to write, lol. I honestly want to take this slow, because I want Viktor and Yuuri to bond with each other. But really, I have no idea whether this is good or bad or boring to read? I sincerely hope not though.
> 
> Like I said, I want to take this slow, slowly taking them through the ups and downs of the pressure of their first debut, of them getting to know each other and all that. 
> 
> Also, as you may have notice, Viktor still has a lot of struggles when it comes to their former vocalist, and not all of his thoughts are right. I really wanted him to think about it, and how he has the tendency to see their band history as black (with Alex) and white (with Yuuri). 
> 
> I have no updating schedule, by the way, as I write whenever I have the time/inspiration. I am, however, loosely planning on updating every two to three weeks. Sometimes it may be faster, sometimes it may be slower, but I'm trying my best. Once we get further along in to the story, I hope to have written more chapters, so I can update on a more regular schedule.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! Thoughts and critique is always appreciated.
> 
> Until next time!
> 
> On a small sidenote, I am noticing that me end notes are getting messed up (or is it just me?) gonna work on figuring that out as soon as I have the time. Until then, bear with me!


	3. Dreamer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Yeah when I'm caught in fire_  
>  When I rise up higher  
> Do you see me out there waiting for the next chance we get  
> Will we make it, it's not enough or just stand here longer  
> Say it we can't end here till we can get it enough  
> "we can't end here till we can get it enough!" 
> 
> Kanzen Kankaku Dreamer (完全感覚Dreamer) - One OK Rock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing but my mistakes and imagination.

It was raining.

Viktor could hear the familiar, equally annoying and relaxing, ticking against his bedroom window. It wasn't exactly pouring outside, if he had to go by the rather gentle sounds on his window, but it wasn't exactly just drizzling either. He sighed, rolling onto his side, his face scrunching up when soreness cursed through his body. He had been awake more than not during the night, twisting and turning, trying desperately to get all the thoughts out of his head - obviously to no avail. He had tossed and turned, his body increasingly protesting as another hour on the clock had passed. When he had finally been able to fall asleep, exhausted and drained, the first rays of sunshine had already been peaking through his curtains.

But now those rays were nowhere to be seen, replaced by the dark rainclouds. Viktor rarely closed his curtains fully, most of the times not bothered enough by it to pull them close. Today, however, he wished he had closed them te night before. The darkness lurking outside wasn't motivating at all to get up and ready.

It probably wouldn't hurt to steal another few minutes, Viktor reasoned with himself as his eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness in his room. The rain ticked on, almost soothingly, against his window. He had never minded the rain, if he was honest. Sure, he hated it the few times it had soaked him when he forgot his umbrella, or when festivals got canceled on the rare occassions the weather was too bad, but most of the time, he didn't mind it. The sound itself could be relaxing and the fresh smell of rain after a long and hot day was one of his favourite smells. It somehow reminded him of new beginnings, of a fresh start. The rain could be considered some kind of cleanser, ridding their world - at least temporarely - from all the dirt and debris.

He breathed in deeply, mentally preparing himself for another day and silently trying to block the thoughts he wasn't ready to face. Because that was just it, was it not? He was scared of the thoughts that had plagued him all night, and of the implications they brought with him. Listening to those thoughts, _actually listening to them_ , would mean he'd have to accept certain things he wasn't ready to accept yet. He would have to let go of certain emotions he didn't want to let go yet.

But when would he be ready to let go?

Viktor didn't know, wasn't sure he wanted to know. It simply wasn't the right moment, it wasn't the right time. He briefly wondered whether he should talk about this with Chris. Chris might pretend to be some kind of suave toyboy that was all smiles and hugs, but a far more complicated person lay beneath the superficial layer. Viktor had admired that about Chris, the way his Swiss friend had been able to switch between joyful and carefree to the serious person that almost sounded wiser beyond his years. Perhaps it was because Chris was a lot more realistic than Viktor was, almost on the pessimistic side. Chris would always be the grounding force when it came to difficult decisions, always voicing doubts and thoughts Viktor hadn't thought about. Viktor found he liked that aspect of his best friend, how Chris could ground him and look through the naive bubble Viktor pretended to live in sometimes.

But as much as he admired and respected Chris' help, Viktor wasn't sure he was ready to talk about _this_. Talking also meant he had to face certain thoughts and feelings he wasn't ready for.

Viktor sighed, twisting on his other side and blindly searching for his phone. For now, he decided as his fingers found the device, he would ignore the thoughts, hide them behind smiles and laughs. They would be in the studio today anyway, recording their individual parts for Agape, and Eros if they had the time. In between, Viktor hoped to show their new demo to Chris and Phichit. He would be busy all day, no doubt about that, running around between recording, talking to the crew helping them, discussing whatever they recorded with the entire team, and probably meet with Yakov as well. There wouldn't be enough time to dwell on his thoughts, even if he wanted to.

He sincerly hoped that would be the case.

Viktor dragged himself out of bed, pushing the thoughts _finally_ out of his mind, busying himself with thoughts about today. Recording was always a tiring experience, filled with far too many takes that had to be better than the last one. His fingers would probably be numb before lunchtime, but the end result had always been more than worth it, at least with their previous singles. Their singles might not have been what Viktor had envisioned when he had written them, since Alex' voice didn't quite fit, but he was still proud of those singles. They had been their springboard, guiding them slowly into the life of rockstars. It had allowed them to play original songs during small gigs, instead of just imitating other bands. History Maker wasn't a cover band and it had pained Viktor that they had needed to be one for a while to get their name out there. It would be good to finally have the album, to have a setlist that was entirely their own.

He took his time in the shower, the hot water relaxing his muscles to some extent. It soothed both his body and mind, and Viktor felt more refreshed and considerably more human when he stepped out of the shower, spilling droplets of water everywhere. He dried his body quickly, taking a bit more time than was probably neccessairy to fix his hair. Once dressed into a jeans and his Nirvana shirt, Viktor stepped out of his bathroom and went to the kitchen. The fridge was still as empty as it had been the day before, but Viktor made himself a cup of coffee to go, spending the time it took the coffee machine to grind his coffee reading up on the news. It seemed the world was remarkebly silent, reporting some mundane things about sports and raising prices for houses. The news wasn't that important to Viktor, but Yakov had always told him he needed to be at least somewhat informed of the world around him. Viktor probably wasn't as up to date as Yakov would like, but he tried at least.

When the coffee machine finally came to a stuttering halt, Viktor grabbed his coffee and car keys from the counter (since it was still raining), his guitar from the corner - his acoustic one, since one of his electric ones was still at the studio - and walked out of his front door.

The rain had gotten worse in the time Viktor had taken for his shower and coffee, coming down in big, round blobs, marking his jeans and coat wherever they hit him. One look at the sky told Viktor it wouldn't stop anytime soon, the clouds still dark as ever and only far away in the distance a bit of light creeping through the thick clouds.

He got into his car, his guitar in the back. The drive was filled with music from the crackeling radio, Viktor humming along to the songs he knew and roffeling his fingers on the steering wheel when he waited in front of a red light. The drive itself didn't take long, the roads mostly empty now that rush hour had been over and the schools had already started. The curbs weren't that busy either, just a few brave enough people walking by fast, cluthing their umbrellas tightly. Viktor watched them pass by when he had already parked in front of Feltsman building, sipping on his coffee. He liked watching people, wondered what they were doing or where they were going. So many lives he knew nothing about, so many lives that just lived.

Viktor was quietly watching the world from inside his car, contently drinking his coffee, when his piece was abruptly disturbed by harsh ticking on his window.

"Fucking hell, Yuri," he cursed once he had rolled down the window of his car. On the other side of the car door stood no other than Yuri Plizetsky, looking even grumpier than usual. His hoodie was covering the blond locks, dark from the rain that had soaked it. "You scared me," Viktor confessed, a hand on his heart to calm his stammering heart. He hadn't exactly expected the angry teenager this early at Feltsman building, as Yuri and Otabek preferred to work on their songs and mixtapes in the evening and night. Besides, both Yuri and Otabek were still in school, because Yakov had threatened to terminate their contract if one of them dared to bail out of school.

Viktor appreciated that about their manager. He was grouchy and grumpy, and could scare the living daylight out of you, but he was a reasonable man, a man that wanted each and every one of his protéges to have a backup plan. Just because you signed a contract under Feltsman record label didn't mean you would automatically become a star. Viktor had seen many aspiring artists come and go over the years, the pressure too great for them to bear, or bands breaking up due to stupid reasons. Many people came, tried, and failed, and Yakov didn't want his pupils to fall back into nothing when that happened.

Yuri, in the meantime, was glaring at Viktor intensely, his eyes intens and his lips pursed in a thin line. "Why are you sitting in your car for minutes like an idiot?" he asked, completely ignoring Viktors earlier statement nor apologizing for his behavior. Not that Viktor expected the younger teen to apologize. The day he would hear Yuri mutter an apology would be newspaper-worthy.

"I am enjoying my coffee in peace," Viktor answered politely, motioning towards the cup in his hand. The coffee was rapidly getting colder now, with the cup being almost empty. Yuri raised an eyebrow, but the movement was so quick Viktor thought he might have imagined it. "Not that it matters to you what I'm doing in my car," he continued, drinking the rest of his coffee while looking at Yuuri from the corners of his eyes. He sighed when it was obvious Yuri was having some kind of one-sided glaring contest. "Spill it, punk," Viktor said, "what do you want?"

"I want you to buy me breakfast."

The request was both absurd and hilarious at the same time and for a second or two, Viktor looked at Yuri in disbelief, before he bursted out into laughing. "You want me to do _what_ _?_ "

"You heard me, old man," Yuri snarled, obviously not as amused by the situation as Viktor was. His glare grew intenser with each passing seconds and Viktor started fearing Yuri would burn holes in the car if the younger continued staring like that.

"Why on earth would I buy you breakfast, Yuri?" Viktor asked once he got his laughing fits under control. He couldn't phantom a reason why Yuri would want Viktor to buy him breakfast. Sure, they had known eachother for quite a few years now, with Yuri knowing Yakov through his granddad. Viktor had watched the younger grow from a slightly rebellious, but shy kid into the punk he was now. He liked Yuri, even though Yuri put far too much energy into pretending he didn't like Viktor, and he admired the kid for his determination and persistence. But that didn't mean he just went and bought Yuri breakfast as if he had been doing that for years.

"Because I'm hungry," Yuri stated, shrugging.

Viktor shook his head, not falling for the attempt at a laidback composure Yuri was trying to convey. "Nah-ah," he said, "I'm not buying that."

Yuri glared at him again (it was a wonder Viktor hadn't dropped that from too-intense-glaring yet), before making an annoyed sound that resembled something between a groan and a growl. "I forgot my wallet, okay? And Becca isn't going to be here until after diner, I can't get a hold of Yakov and I'll be damned to go back home to beg my _mom_ for food."

Viktor noticed the way Yuri's voice curled unpleasantly around the word _mom_ , as if it was something disgusting. He had once heard from Yakov that Yuri mostly lived with his grandfather, but occassionally had to go back home to his mom, obviously much to the dismay of Yuri. Beside that, it wasn't like Yuri to practically beg Viktor for something, albeit in his own weird way. Yuri was asking for help, Viktor realised, even though he hadn't explicitly stated so.

"Fine," Viktor said eventually. "I'll buy you some breakfast at the cafe."

The tiny smile around Yuri's lips made it worth it, Viktor thought, even though the smile was gone as soon as it had had a change to form om Yuri's face. Back was the scowl that seemed permanently edged on his youthful features, back was the intense glare in his eyes, but Viktor could see the unspoken gratitude. For him, that was more than enough.

They walked in silence to the cafe, Viktor silently cursing to himself for forgetting an umbrella. The rain had slowed down a bit again, but it was still coming down hard enough to get soaked if they wouldn't get into the warm cafe in a few minutes. Inside the cafe, it was comfortably warm and it smelled like coffee and freshly baked bread. It was a small business, but they were doing well. Their products were fresh and delicious and not that expensive. Mostly students came here to get some food or a cup of coffee or tea, but occassionaly business men and women could be seen as well.

"What do you want then?" Viktor asked as he took his place in the line. Yuri was looking around, scowling at God knows what. Sometimes the kid could be unreadable on so many levels it gave Viktor a headache.

"Their homestyle sandwich." Yuri didn't look at Viktor as his spoke, his narrowed eyes still scanning the area. "I'm going to take a sit already," he announced, still not looking at Viktor, and briskly walked away. His hoodie was still up, dark from the water that had rained down on them, and Yuri left wet footprints behind him with every step.

Viktor watched him sit down for a while, observed the way Yuri kept his hostile aura around him, grabbing his phone and furiously typing away. Viktor assumed it would be Otabek, Yuri's closest friend and fellow bandmember, though it couldn't exactly be called a band what the two of them had. They were more or less a duo that produced music, with Otabek behind the mix table and Yuri providing the vocals. A lot of digitally altered music came into play on their soundtracks, with neither of them able to play an instrument well enough. Viktor had once seen Yuri try his hand at both playing the guitar and playing the drum, with little success. The poor guitar hadn't survived the lesson and everyone in Feltsman building had been able to hear the elaborate scolding Yuri had gotten from Yakov. It was the first and last time Yuri had touched an instrument.

Once it was his turn, Viktor ordered for the both of them, the homestyle sandwich for Yuri, and a ham and cheese sandwich for himself with another coffee. He gave the lady behind the counter the cash, telling her she could keep the change, and brought the tray with food and steaming coffee back to the table Yuri had picked out. Naturally, it was the table furthest away from the entrance, hidden in a darker corner, away from praying eyes and eavesdropping people. Not that it wasn't exceptionally busy at the moment in the small cafe, but Viktor had found Yuri preferred to sit in solitude.

"There you go," Viktor said as he placed the food in front of the still scowling teenager. Yuri dug in immediately, not once thanking Viktor, but Viktor decided to let it slide. No need to tickle a sleeping dragon, right?

They ate in silence for a while, Yuri still typing away on his phone, and Viktor looking at the people passing by outside through the small window. It never ceased to amaze him how different people could be. There were similarities between people when you took your time looking at them, but there were also so many differences. Viktor found it intruiging.

"Is that new singer of yours any good?"

Viktor looked away from the world outside, surprised by the sudden question from Yuri. Yuri was looking at him, no longer scowling, but his eyes still intently focussed and his face blank, all emotions carefully hidden. "He is," Viktor confirmed, cocking his head to the said. He was trying to understand the young teen that sat in front of him, but failed miserably. Yuri was a big mistery, as he had been for the past few years. The question had been random and Viktor didn't know what pushed Yuri to ask such a question the teen normally didn't care for. It was no mystery that Yuri could be extremely selfish and competitive, showing no interest in the other artists at their record label, instead walking around as if he owned the place. And in a way he did, because it was quite remarkable what he had already done at such a young age, together with his best friend.

"So the album is going good?" Yuri asked, his face still blank. He had put his phone to the side, face down, but Viktor could still see the rims of light flickering up everytime Yuri got a message.

"It is," Viktor confirmed again. He took a sip from his coffee, glancing outside for a few seconds. It was still raining outside and people were passing the cafe quickly, hiding under their umbrellas. "We hope to have it ready soon, but there's still a lot of work."

Yuri didn't answer, instead playing with breadcrumb that was on his plate. Viktor practically see the brooding war Yuri was internally having with himself.

"Come on," Viktor pushed, "ask whatever you want to ask."

Yuri actually snarled at that, and Viktor had to hold back a laugh. Now was not the time to offend the kid. Yuri kept on staring for a few silent minutes, probably weighing the options in his head. "Can I join you guys, today?" he mumbled eventually, his voice soft and barely audible.

Viktor smiled. "Of course, but don't get in our way, 'kay? We have a busy day today and I will be in and out of the record studio all day, but Chris and Phichit are there as well, and I'm sure you'll get along with Yuuri easily."

Yuri blinked, his eyes suddenly wide. "Yuuri... Your vocalist's name is _Yuuri_ _?_ _"_

Oh. Viktor _might_ have forgotten to mention that piece of information to Yuri, but then again, it wasn't like he spoke to Yuri on daily basis these days. They were both busy and Viktor had been working his ass off on the days he was in the studio. He decided to simply nod to confirm the question.

"You're joking." Yuri, obviously, wasn't amused by it, his face full of disbelief and horror. "Only _you_ can find a new vocalist with the same name as me," he said, looking at Viktor accusingly.

Viktor rolled his eyes. Yuri might act all though, but he was still a kid and sometimes it truly showed. "Oh yes," he huffed, "I specifically went out to find a vocalist with the same name as you just to piss you off."

Yuri glared (for the millionth time that day), but didn't respond. _Good_ , Viktor thought. Silence from the angry teen usually meant he knew he was wrong, but too prideful to admit.

They remained silent for the remaining time it took Viktor to eat the rest of his sandwich and drink his coffee. Even when they walked outside and walked the short distance to Feltsman building, they stayed quiet. Viktor glanced at the short teen next to him every now and then, but Yuri seemed lost in his own thoughts and Viktor wasn't in the mood to pry. He had learned a long time ago it was usually better to just let Yuri be. When the teen was ready, he would come himself. Besides, the silent wasn't awkward in any way, but more of a companiable silence. They had known eachother long enough to not be bothered by silences like these, where the both of them were in their own little world.

It didn't take them long to reach the studio on the second floor, and when Viktor opened the door, they were greeted by Chris and Phichit, who seemed immersed in sheets filled with music. Their motions were grand and animated and they pointed to different points on the sheets, talking enthusiastically about whatever it is they were talking about.

"Oi, boys," Viktor greeted his fellow band members. "I brought Yuri along today, that okay with you all?" He put his guitarcase down, next to his other guitar. Yuri still walked behind him, his eyes scanning his surroundings a bit hesitently. It wasn't the first time Yuri had been in this particular studio, but it had been a while, and the studio had definately upgraded since then. It had better sound systems nowadays, and since they sort of lived here now, it also housed a small fridge, most of their instruments, and a lot of extras. There were also a lot of posters of the wall, some brought by Chris or Phichit, but most of them brought by Viktor. They were from a few of the bands they admired and were inspired by, as some sort of reminder what they were aiming for.

"Hey, Yuri," Phichit exclaimed first, looking up from the papers in his hand. "It's been a while, hasn't it? How is that new mix getting along?" Leave it to Phichit to wipe away any awkwardness that might form. Phichit was probably the most social one of the band, and while he had been with Feltsman records the shortest, he knew the most people. He was always chatting to people, getting to know them, and showing interest in their music - or whatever common interests they had.

Yuri visibly relaxed, his shoulders not as tense as before and his scowl a little less daunting. He sat down on one of the big boxes that probably contained a shitton of cables, finally taking the still slightly damp hoodie off. The shirt underneath was typically Yuri: dark and edgy, but with a big tiger printed on the front. "It's going good," he answered Phichit. "We hope to release it somewhere next week. Bekka and I are going to finetune it this afternoon and than run it by the producing team."

Yuri spoke proudly, as he should, because releasing a new mix was nothing to be shy about. It would be their third original song and Yuri had every right to be proud. From what Viktor knew, Yuri was a hard worker, ever the perfectionist, and this particular mix had been delayed multiple times due to disagreement between the final producers and Yuri.

"Congratulations are in order then," Chris chimed in, clapping Yuri on the back in some sort of celebratory movement. Yuri didn't seem to see it that way, his eyes narrowing at Chris.

"Yes, congratulations!" Phichit said, smiling his usual bright smile. He sat down beside Yuri and within seconds the two of them were talking about all kinds of things.

Viktor watched them with mild interest as he tuned his guitar. It was fun to see how Yuri let down his guard a bit whenever Phichit was around, not entirely immune to the bubbly aura Phichit brought along with his excitement. "Where is Yuuri?" he asked Chris. Chris had also sat down, pinging away one of their older songs softly on his bass guitar.

"He's already recording the vocal part for Eros."

Viktor couldn't say he was surprised. Yuuri was driven to make them great, the ambition and enthusiasm matching Viktors own - probably even surpassing it. It warmed things inside Viktors heart, as it was such a stark comparison to the attitude Alex had showed as their vocalist.

_No_ , Viktor silently scolded himself _._ He wasn't supposed to think about those dangerous thoughts.

"Want to go check him out?" Viktor asked Chris. Chris simply nodded, putting his guitar down and getting up within seconds. "Hey guys, we're going to check out Yuuri's recording, you wanna join?" He looked at Yuri and Phichit, who had been talking excitedly (well, Phichit had talked excitedly, Yuri had been trying to hide the small grin on his face).

"Oh, yes!" Phichit beamed, jumping from the box he had been sitting on. "He was gone this morning before I woke up, so I didn't have a change to see or talk to him yet."

"Are you two dating or something?" Yuri asked bluntly, raising his eyebrow.

Viktor and Chris snickered, while Phichit burst out laughing. "What, Yuuri and me?" And when Yuri nodded, Phichit laughed even louder. "Oh please not. I love Yuuri to bits, and he is my best friend, but I could never date him," he chuckled. "We would kill eachother within a week."

"They're roommates," Chris provided to a still confused-looking Yuri. "We met Yuuri through Phichit, actually. And then, Viktor here, stalk-"

" _Asked_ him politely to join our band and he said yes, end of story, now shall we go?" Viktor interrupted Chris, throwing him a look. He was perfectly aware his tactics to persuade Yuuri could be considered stalking, but Yuri didn't need to know that. Chris smirked at Viktor, one of those smirks that told Viktor the story would come out anyway, whether Viktor liked it or not.

The four of them exited the studio, locking it behind them, and began their way down the stairs. The recording units were downstairs in the basement, where any noise from the outside world was drawn out by the heavy soundproof walls. It always felt a bit claustrophobic, due to the lack of windows (and thus no natural sunlight), but it provided them with the best possible recordings and the producers with the least amount of cleaning up the tracks after recording. The units themselves were simple, and looked probably like any other recording booth. The recording sign outside the door was lit, but Viktor opened the door anyway, albeit as silent as possible.

Yuuri was in the middle of Eros, building up the chorus with his vocals. The four of them shuffled inside, silently greeting the team that helped production and recording, and stood in one of the corners. Yuuri hadn't noticed them yet, his eyes closed as he belted out notes with easy. Viktor shouldn't be in awe as he was, but he couldn't get over Yuuri's voice. Those high notes always send chills down his spine and the glower, more edgy, range of Yuuri's voice always gave him goosebumps.

Viktor looked to his side, to where Yuri was standing, fully expecting a disapproving scowl on the teen's face, but he found none. Yuri's face was still blank, but his eyes were telling a different story. Yuri was as much in awe as was Viktor, Yuuri's voice doing something to him that he probably couldn't completely understand. Viktor understood, he understood precisely how Yuri felt. It was how he himself had felt the first time he had heard Yuuri sing.

It was only when the song ended and Greg, the head producer, told Yuuri he could take a break, that Yuuri looked up and saw them. He instantly smiled, taking off the headphones and placing them down, before exciting the recording booth. "Hey guys," he greeted them, smile still in place.

"You think you can belt out those notes every live?" Chris asked, but he was grinning.

Yuuri opened his mouth to answer, but it was the smaller Yuri that spoke: "Of course not, he'll kill his voice within a week."

Gasps were heard, but Viktor wasn't sure from whom. Yuuri, however, didn't seem impressed at all. It reminded Viktor of the time they had that talk with Yakov, where Yakov voices some serious doubts and the three of them had cowered in their chairs like children, while Yuuri had stayed passive. He looked similar to that now, in his oversized shirt and jeans, his hair falling down in it's natural style, and with his glasses on. But something about the calmness surrounding him, made Yuri look away. Viktor watched in amusement; Yuri _never_ looked away.

"Okay, maybe not in a week," Yuri muttered, "but it will be shit for his voice nonetheless."

Yuuri shook his head, a asymmetric smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Every form of singing is shit for my vocal chords in the long run. That's why I take the best of care of my voice by doing excercises, giving it a break, and warming up properly. But I appreciate the concern, kid."

"You sure know how to make friends, Yuri," Phichit sighed, earning him an angry look from Yuri and a confused look from Yuuri.

"How dare you!" Yuri yelled, at the same time Yuuri asked "What do you mean?", his eyes furrowed into confusion.

"Oh," Phichit said thoughtfully. "This is going to get confusing fast. I meant the kid, not you, Yuuri-kun." He tapped his chin thoughfully, ignoring the daggers Yuri was throwing his way. "Oh, I know!" Phichit exclaimed excitedly after a few silent, but tense, seconds. "From now on, you're Yurio." He pointed towards Yuri, smiling brightly as if he had just thought of _the_ idea of the year.

" _What_ _?!"_

Viktor watched the teens face pale, how that pretty face went from blank to furious in less than a second. He admired the team that kept on working on the demos they had recorded, not even looking up at the raising voices. They were probably used to Yuri's tantrums, Viktor mused, and choose (wisely so) to ignore it. Those tantrums had grown worse over the years, starting with small fits where Yuri tended to walk away, to full blown anger attacks, where Yuri didn't even think about backing down or walking away. Viktor knew it was the result of many things, of the unstable home situation, of the lack of a father figure in Yuri's life, of the thrive inside Yuri to be better. And they shouldn't forget Yuri was still so young, so new in a world full of grownups. Yuri had so much to learn still, and it showed in moments like these.

"Why don't you call _him_ Yurio?" Yuri continued his rage, pointing his finger towards Yuuri.

"Because he's older than you," Phichit reasoned, unbothered by the rage thrown his way. Viktor could see Chris snickering behind his hand, and even a smirk on Yuuri's delicate features. "So technically, he was Yuuri first."

Yuri glared at all of them, his eyes moving from Chris to Phichit, to Yuuri, and lastly to Viktor. Viktor held the gaze, daring the teenager to speak again, to make another scene. Yuri didn't. He stayed silent, save for a muttered "You are all idiots," under his breath and sat down in one of the abandonded chairs. Viktor smiled a small smile, grateful the teen had at least enough sense to understand when he had lost an argument and wouldn't be able to win.

Now that Yuri was sitting a bit away from them and the atmosphere was slowly turning around, Phichit squeeled excitedly, tackling Yuuri with a hug.

"You were singing amazing, Yuuri-kun!" he exclaimed, completely ignoring the flushed look on Yuuri's face and the helpless looks Yuuri send Chris and Viktor.

"He's right, you know," Viktor said, grinning like an idiot at the sight of a flustered Yuuri. Chris nodded beside him, stating a similar statement.

"Thanks," Yuuri said earnestly, carefully untangling himself from an excited ball of energy that was Phichit. "It will be a tough song for our live performances, but it will be so worth it."

Chris shrugged. "As long as you know what you're doing, we'll follow you. You're the vocalist here, Yuuri, not us. And besides, you and Viktor write most of the songs now, right?" Chris glanced between Viktor and Yuuri, both men nodding in confirmation. "The songs you presented to us are good. _Really good_. I can't speak for the others, of course, but I trust what you're doing, and I trust you know what you're doing with your voice."

"Thanks Chris." Yuuri looked even more flustered than before, his cheeks tinted a dark pink, and a goofy grin on his face. It was the nervous Yuuri, coming out every so often, mostly with compliments he didn't know how to handle. "It really means a lot to me that you say that. I'll do my best to make all of you proud, to make this band great." He put his hand in between the four of them, inviting them non-verbally to do the same.

They all joined hands, Viktor the first to cover Yuuri's hand with his, and Chris the last to join.

"I promise," Yuuri continued, his eyes focussed on the hands that were now stacked in between them. "I promise I'll make us proud."

"We'll make the world proud," Chris said, his voice low and serious.

"We'll make ourselves proud," Viktor chimed in, smiling at Yuuri.

They watched their joined hands for seconds, Yuri remarkebly silent in the background (and Viktor internally thanked the teen for that), until Greg cleared his throat.

"Sorry to disrupt your precious moment, boys," he apologized with a look on his face that clearly told them he wasn't sorry, "but we need Yuuri again for a few more takes."

"It's fine," Yuuri said, waving his hand to dismiss Greg. "I will see you guys in a bit, _ne_ _?_ "

"Yeah, we'll be in and out of the studio," Viktor said. "I have to record my part for Agape in a bit, but we'll be around."

They said their goodbyes, both to Yuuri who disappeared inside the record booth with a smile, and to the team, apologizing for any commotion they might have caused. The team just laughed it away, saying that this wasn't even worth mentioning to any of the officials; they had seen far worse.

One look at an unpleased Yuri was enough to confirm that statement for Viktor.

~

The four of them parted shortly after that. Phichit and Yuri stayed in the studio, with Phichit promising the teen he would listen to the new mixtape and give his thoughts, all of their previous discussion seemingly forgotten. Chris and Viktor grabbed their respective guitars, due to record their parts for Agape and Eros, and said their goodbyes to Yuri and Phichit. They walked together down the stairs, talking amicably about the songs they were about the record, about the parts they liked playing the most, and about other mundane things. They reached their respective recording studios before they knew it, saying goodbye to eachother and entering their own rooms.

Since Feltmans record label had grown so immensely over the years, it had been able to invest in its building, thus housing enough recording booths for people to record whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted. There was always enough staff running around, seeing as working here was the best move you could make when you wanted to make it one way or another in the music industry. One letter of recommendation from Yakov Feltsman himself was enough to grand you access to any future work place. Many of the people were therefore interns, hoping to get on the good side of Yakov in their spare time.

Viktor greeted the guys already in the room and went straight into the booth. The actual recordings would be put together later by Greg, and then they would discuss the end result together, redoing what needed to be redone, or changing whatever needed to be changed. It was why he didn't know most of the people in the room - he didn't need to know them personally. They were here to help him record his part, nothing more, nothing less.

And so Viktor played for what felt like hours, the same riffs and chords over and over again, until his fingers hurt and his body was tired. And even then, he kept on going, pushed by the convincing words from the other side of the glass, telling him to do better, to play louder, to go faster or slower. He played until his mind was completely blank, save from the chords dancing in front of his eyes. His shirt was sticking uncomfortably against his back, wet from the sweat dripping down his spine, and he knew from one look at the reflection in the window that his hair was a mess. But no matter how grueling it may sound and how awful Viktor might feel, it was worth it. Every riff he played again and again, every time they told him to change something - it was all worth it. Because the songs were good, but a proper production good make them _better_. And once the final production was made, and their individual parts would have been mashed together, it would make the songs _amazing_. All their hard work would pay off at that very moment, and give them even more than they had bargained for when they would play it live (assuming they wouldn't flop before that happened).

Besides, Viktor actually liked their new songs a lot, the instrumental parts more intricate than their earlier songs, but it made playing them more fun. It lifted the instrument to a new level and Viktor appreciated that. Nowadays, songs were mostly about the voice and a fun beat behind it, the art of instruments slowly but surely forgotten. With one press of a buttion, an entire orchestra could be played during a live performance. And Viktor understood the appeal of it. It was faster and a lot cheaper. There was no need to record the different instruments seperately, and later mix them together with the vocals into one harmonious sound. But the downside of it was that the sounds weren't as deep, the instrumental parts not as raw. And while a lot of people didn't mind, Viktor preferred to hear actual instruments.

He stepped out of the recording booth drenched in his own sweat, his body exhausted, and his fingers almost numb. He had noticed his fingers becoming more calloused with each passing day, getting used to the brutal practices he put them through.

"Good job, Viktor," one of the guys in the room said. Viktor thought his name was Hank, but he wasn't entirely sure. "We'll bring them to Greg in a moment, go take a break. If you're up for it, we can record Agape in the evening."

"Sure," Viktor answered. He bid his goodbye to the people in the room and headed straight to the showers on the third floor. Due to Yakov's ex-wife, Lilia Baranovskaya, Feltsman building had both housed artist that wanted to make it in the music industry, as well as performers that wanted to make it into the dance world. The third floor of the building had been designed specifically for that, housing multiple practice rooms and, which was Viktors goal, showers.

Since the dancing department had been moved to Lilia's new studio a few block away, the third floor was mostly deserted nowadays, used only by artist that wanted to see what they looked like when they performed, or when they had worked out. The showers, therefore, were empty when Viktor entered and it allowed him to shower in peace. The hot water streaming down his back was heavenly and Viktor sighed contently. He probably could get used to this life, he mused. It was taxing in his body, yes, but it was also immensely satisfying. He couldn't wait for Greg to put their individual pieces together, so they could hear Eros properly for the first time.

Viktor dressed himself in his spare change of clothing, which he kept in his bag at all times. You never knew what could happen in the studio, and he rather be prepared than end up empty-handed. Feeling refreshed, he walked back down the stairs to their studio on the second floor. He fully expected the studio to be empty, with the other probably still recording their parts of the track, but he was surprised to find both Yuuri and Yuri sitting in the studio. They were listening to a song, which Viktor assumed was Yuri's new song when he heard the recognisable style Otabek used when mixing their songs.

"Hey," Viktor announced himself as he walked inside the studio, putting down his guitar and bag. "What are you guys doing?"

Yuuri looked at Yuri, before looking back at Viktor. "I was listening to Yuri's new song. It's good, _ne_?"

"I haven't heard it in entirety yet," Viktor confessed as he sat across from the other men, "but from what I just heard it sounds pretty good."

"It's not just pretty good," Yuri hissed, "it's fucking amazing."

Yuuri laughed, that specific laugh that sounded so carefree and tugged at something in Viktors heart. "I think every artist thinks his own songs are, and I quote, 'fucking amazing'." He had a water bottle in his hand and took sips from it every now and then. His hair was still damp, Viktor noticed, and he assumed Yuuri had also showered after his recording session ended.

"So?" Yuri said, his aura radiating hostile confidence. Viktor found it amusing how both Yuuri and Yuri were confident people most of the time (or at least wanted people to believe they were confident), but they displayed it in such different ways.

"That doesn't mean a song is actually _that_ amazing," Yuuri shrugged. "There is always room for improvement. If all of our songs were that amazing, we would all be world stars touring the world and performing in sold out arenas by now."

"We will," Yuri answered, "just you watch."

"Gladly so." Yuuri stayed all smiles and friendly, never once bothered by the hostility thrown his way by the young teen. He simply ignored the looks thrown his way, and focussed his attention on Viktor instead. "How did your recording go?"

"Good," Viktor answered, "but I'm exhausted."

Yuuri chuckled. "Me too. Recording Eros turned out to be a lot more tiring than I thought. I'm just hoping Agape will go a lot smoother."

"Are you still going to record that one tonight?" Viktor asked, standing up and grabbing a water bottle from the small fridge in the corner. It was a blessing to - finally - have one in their studio. Yakov hadn't wanted it to happen, but with how often they were currently in their studio, Yakov had given them permission, albeit begrudingly.

"I don't know," Yuuri answered honestly. "I really want to, because the sooner we can work on that new song, but I don't want to overdo my voice. I wanted to grab something to eat in a bit and make a decision after that."

"Understandable," Viktor hummed. While he only had the think about whether or not his fingers would end up bleeding if he played too long and too intensely, Yuuri could actually damage his throat by overdoing it. "Do you mind if I join you for that food?"

Yuuri shook his head, smiling. "Of course not. There is a small Japanese restaurant nearby that apparantly serves decent ramen noodles. I've been dying to try them." Yuuri's belly rumbled, the sound loud and clear. He laughed, as did Viktor (Yuri simply grinned, hiding it as quickly as he could). "I guess that's my cue to go and try it, don't you think?" He looked at the teen sitting beside him. "You're coming too, kid? My treat."

Viktor could see the internal debate inside Yuri's head. It wasn't often the teen spent time with anyone else besides his best friend Otabek, and he had probably overdone his quota of tolerating other people for the next month or so. And yet, Yuri nodded after a few seconds. "Yeah, I'll join you two."

"Splendid," Yuuri said brightly, and he suddenly reminded Viktor of a bubbly Phichit. "Well, let's go then."

They texted Chris and Phichit to let them know where they went, in case they were done soon and wanted to join, and left the studio after that, Viktor locked it behind him.

The walk to the small restaurant was about ten minutes, in which Yuuri talked mostly, asking Yuri about his previous work with Otabek, how he met Otabek, and what Yuri envisioned for his future. Yuri answered in short answers, never diving too deep into the details of his life, but Viktor had expected as much. He was still surprised that Yuuri managed to get this much information out of the grouchy teen.

It was still raining softly outside, and when they entered the restaurant, their hair wasn't damp from the shower, but from the weather outside. They sat down at a table in the corner, grabbing the menus laying in front of them. It took Viktor a few seconds to realize he wasn't able to read the unfamiliar lettering.

"What the _fuck_ ," Yuri exclaimed his surprise, far less subtle than Viktor had intented to do. "How am I supposed to choose food?"

"I think you'll enjoy the Asahikawa ramen," Yuuri said, not looking up from his own menu. His eyes scanned over the characters with ease.

A waitress came by their side in no time, a small notebook and pen in her hands. "Hi! Do you guys know what you want to order?" she asked, smiling friendly at the three of them.

"They want the Asahikawa ramen," Yuuri answered for them, the foreign word falling easily from his lips, "and I would like the Hakata ramen. And some water for the three of us, please."

"Noted! So three bowls of ramen and water, yes?"

" _Hai_ ," Yuuri confirmed. The waitress bowed lightly, before walking away with their order.

"How do you know what the choose for us?" Viktor asked curiously, not able to make sense from the Japanese language in any sort of way.

"Ramen is typically based on their _tare_ , or base flavor," Yuuri explained. "So you have four type of base flavors, I chose the shoyu flavor for you two, which is soy sauce-based. Then you decide which type of ramen you want and how you want them cooked and all your toppings. But Asahikawa ramen is really good, so I'm pretty sure you guys will like it."

"And the one you picked for yourself?"

Yuuri chuckled. "I just really like that one, but don't eat it that often. I'm hoping it's as good here as it is back home."

They talked a bit more about the differences and similarities between ramen, with even Yuri asking the occasional question when he wasn't busy with his phone. He had told them on the way here that Otabek had run late due to some errand he had to run, which probably explained why Yuri had gone with them. Yuuri answered their questions easily, explaining how the four different base flavors were  _shio_ , wich was salt-based ramen,  _shoyu_ , which was the soy sauce-based ramen he had picked for them,  _miso_ , which was soybean paste-flavored ramen, and  _tonkotsu_ , which was pork bone broth ramen. He further explained that while some ramens were nationally known, different areas had become known for their own unique take on some type of ramen. 

They talked about the ramens until they laughed because of how silly it sound, when their bowls arrived, steaming hot and smelling delicious. Viktor thanked the waitress, smiling kindly at her, before digging in the noodles - which were delicious.

Part of Viktor laughed internally at how ridiculous they must look, with Yuuri the only one being able to properly eat with his chopsticks, while Viktor and Yuri looked like children. They poked and grabed at the noodles, more than once letting something slip from their shaky grasp. And while Yuri got frustrated initially, he laughed the loudest of them all when Viktor let a piece of egg drop back into his bowl, some of the broth splashing onto his face.

It was a serene atmosphere, with Yuri loosening up bit by bit and instead of scowling all the time, also smiling every now and then. Yuuri talked openly about his hometown, where he had had some of the best ramen in his life. He talked about the hot springs his parents had run before customers had dried up, about the differences between Japan and America, about some of the friends and families he missed. In turn, Yuri and Viktor talked about their respective homes, back in Russia. Yuri told them he missed his grandfather the most, who due to his age and health had stayed behin when Yuri and his mom had moved to America when he had still been a child. They still visited as often as they could, but it was obvious from the way Yuri was speaking that it wasn't enough for him.

They talked and laughed at silly stories, while enjoying the slowly cooling ramen. Eventually, Chris and Phichit joined them, both men tired from their recording session.

"I'm going to have sore arms for a _month_ ," Phichit exclaimed as he practically threw himself on the chair. "This was by far the most intense drum session I have had in my _life_."

"I don't know what's worse though," Yuuri said thoughtfully, "having a sore body or having a sore throat from practicing too much."

"Body," Phichit groaned as he moved to drink water greedily from Yuuri's glass, " _definately_ body."

"You're just weak," Yuri said, obviously enjoying the sight of an uncomfortable Phichit. "A sore throat is far worse than a sore body."

Chris shook his head, sighing deeply. "If you could feel my body now, kid, you would disagree. I am aware of muscles I didn't even know I had."

They laughed and talked easily after that, Yuuri ordering bowls of ramen for Phichit and Chris as well.

It was the best night Viktor had had in a while, even with the unexpected company of Yuri. He hadn't imagined getting close again with the younger, but he saw the way Yuuri fussed over the teen, as some kind of mother, and the way Yuri let him. Perhaps he should try harder to, looking out for the teen when others couldn't. Viktor stayed silent mostly, laughing and talking only when necessairy, but mostly just enjoying the atmosphere around them, and the feeling of being with friends. A few times, he caught Yuuri looking his way with a frown, but Viktor smiled everytime, silently telling Yuuri that he was allright. He was more than allright, his thoughts not once wavering to the dark place that was hiding in the darkness, because tonight, Viktor was happy. And he didn't care whether he would have another grueling recording session in a little bit, or whether it would be tomorrow. Right now, he was enjoying this moment, savouring it with his entire being.

When he would be in bed tonight, he told himself internally, pushing the dark thoughts away, he would think about this moment. About the way Chris laughed deeply with his baritone voice, of the way Phichit squeeled in delight at an instagram post, of the way Yuri hid his increasingly wider smiles behind his hand, and of the way Yuuri smiled at him every now and then, warming his heart down to the core. He would think about it until he would fall asleep, and when he finally slept, he would still dream about this.

The smile on Viktors face didn't leave his lips the rest of the evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Internally screaming*
> 
> Guys, can I just say that I love Yuri so much? He's such a grouchy little potato and I want to protect him at all costs. I am aware he is probably OC'ish as hell, but I like him this way. Viktor and Yuri go way back, since they both know Yakov before joining Feltmans Record, and since they're both from Russia. Viktor is some sort of big brother for Yuri.  
> I have always felt that while Yuri is harsh and unfriendly to Yuuri in the series, he is actually looking up to Yuuri. So I'd like to portray that here as well (hence why Yuri joins them, even for dinner).
> 
> I still don't know a lot about the recording of songs/albums or Japanese food/traditions, but I try my best to google about those things so I can portray it at least somewhat right?
> 
> Also, you can thank Yuri for this fast update - this chapter just flowed so easily, and while it is more of a filler chapter, I rather enjoyed deepening the relationship between Yuri and Viktor, and looking more at the thoughts Viktor has.
> 
> I sincerely hope that to all you people reading this fic that you still enjoy it. If you do, please leave kudo's and/or comments, as they make me smile and warm my heart. You guys are too kind and amazing!
> 
> See you all next level!


	4. Wasted nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't be afraid to dive  
> Be afraid that you didn't try  
> These moments remind us why  
> We're here, we're so alive
> 
> One OK Rock - Wasted nights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing but my imagination and mistakes.

As the days turned into weeks, it all started blurring together.

Viktor couldn't tell you what day of the week it was even if his life depended on it. He more or less lived in the studio nowadays, only going home when he was able to drag himself out of Feltsman building before falling asleep somewhere, passing out from exhaustion. Phichit and Chris had dragged an old couch into the studio over a week ago, bought from a secondhand shop down the road. It had been like a godsend, with the four of them occasionally passing out somewhere during the day or the night on the couch, sleeping inbetween their recording sessions.

Viktor was currently laying on said couch, drained to the bone from recording all day. They had a total of eleven songs recorded now, but they were aiming to have about fifteen songs on the album. With the three already existing singles from the time when Alex had still been their vocalist, they wanted to have quite a few new songs. That way, they wouldn't have to cover songs anymore, and could focus on sharing their own sound with the world. It felt right to have an album full of their own songs, but it was slowly killing Viktor. There had been dark circles under his eyes for weeks now, darkening with each passing day. But with the deadline looming over their head, they needed to push and cross their own bounderies. They could sleep once their recordings were finished and the team would do their magic and make the end result amazing.

Phichit and Yuuri had already gone home earlier that evening, having come in early that day to finish their recordings. On most days, Yuuri would stay until early in the morning, trying to write the remaining songs together with Viktor, but apparantly inspiration hadn't come to Yuuri this day. The vocalist had looked dead tired when he said his goodbyes after his recordings, and Viktor had simply waved. There would be time to jam something tomorrow.

That didn't stop Viktor from trying, however. He felt no desire to go home, since Yuuri had picked him up that morning, and the walk home was long and tiring. Somewhere in the corner of the studio lay a few bags anyway, filled with various items of clothing, both clean and dirty, and Viktor had a toothbrush in his back somewhere as well. There was that little cafe around the corner and they had their mini fridge in the studio as well. There was really no reason for him to go home when all he needed was here.

And so Viktor was trying, laying on his back on the couch, his laptop popped open on his chest. They had a few unfinished demos, mostly instrumental stuff or Yuuri humming some kind of tune, and Vikter was trying to see if he could make it into another song. Since it had become far to tiresome to write all the chords and lyrics, they had started recording most of their jamming sessions or used a synthesiser program to form a basic melody they could finetune later. It wasn't perfect, but it worked for the two of them. Writing and composing the songs together with Yuuri had felt natural and Chris and Phichit didn't seem to mind. They had voiced their interests in composing a song somewhere in the future, but for now they were content with playing whatever Yuuri and Viktor came up with.

Viktor thoroughly enjoyed the late nights in which Yuuri and him tried to compose a new song. It was filled with lots of laughter, but also with more serious talks. They got to know eachother and Viktor considered Yuuri to be a very close friend. Even when they weren't with eachother, they were texting almost all the time. Like Yuuri had just texted Viktor a picture of a dog he had passed by on his way home. It was the cutest ever to see a smiling Yuuri next to a random dog, Phichit no doubt snickering behind the camera, and the owner of said dog both smiling and looking confused somewhere in the background. Yuuri, as it turned out, loved dogs as much as Viktor dad. He had had a toy poodle when he was younger, Yuuri had told Viktor, laughing when he said the dog's name was Vicchan. Apparantly it was a Japanese nickname for the name Viktor, and they had laughed almost histerically after that. And now, whenever Yuuri wanted to annoy Viktor, he would go all " _Vicchan_ ," on Viktor, in that particular whiny voice of his.

They also bickered a lot, with their opinions differing on certain topics. They were both rather vocal about their favourite artists and it had resulted in some heated discussions during the early hours. In the end they always agreed on some kind of balance between their opinions, laughing about their silly discussions. It was stupid, probably, to argue that intensely about something so trivial, but Viktor wouldn't trade it for the world. He had learned that Yuuri was a passionate man when he liked something, and the fire he saw in the younger's eyes whenever they talked like that, was worth it all.

Viktor found he liked a lot about Yuuri, not just his voice. Yuuri was passionate, but also kind and bubbly almost when he was excited. Most of the time, however, Yuuri had a calm aura surrounding him, together with that confidence he had oozing off from his person. He was almost charismatic, turning people around his finger with one smile if he wanted to. Sometimes Yuuri got nervous, whenever someone complimented him on something, or when his mom fussed to much on him when they ate at the restaurant. And on the very rare occassions, Yuuri got almost... _anxious_. Viktor had seen it only a handful of times and it seemed that Yuuri surpressed that side of him as quickly as he noticed it coming, but it was a side of Yuuri that was hidden underneath the surface. And Viktor wanted to know that side, as much as he wanted to know the confident Yuuri. He just wanted to get to know Yuuri to the fullest, to know what exactly had made him into the person he was today.

He groaned loadly, not even the tiniest bit of progress done. Perhaps he should just quit for tonight and sleep. He was debating the pros and cons of both options, when the door to the studio opened. Chris entered, his blond hair disheveled and tired circles under his eyes. Viktor glanced at the clock that hung above the door; it was close to one in the morning.

Chris put his base guitar down and slumped down in one of the empty chairs, sighing loudly.

"How was recording?" Viktor asked, closing the laptop and shoving it underneath the couch.

"Tiring," Chris answered. He had his eyes closed and was slowly massaging the bridge of his nose. "But at least _Monster_ is done now. I love that song, but man, those chords are killing me."

Viktor huffed. "I know what you mean."

Monster was one of the songs that Yuuri had written entirely on his own, and it was an incredible song, but it was also filled with difficult rythms and chord composions. It had taken Viktor a long time to record his part, and it had almost driven him to madness.

"But you know," Chris said thoughtfully, his eyes focussed on Viktor now. "When I was in there recording, fucking up for the umpteenth time, I thought about how awesome it would sound once it's finished. And more importantly, how lit it will be when we play it live." Viktor hummed in appreciation at the thought. "And _then_ I thought, what if we have something like that to start of the album? Something that is so sick, people will know we're not here to play around."

"You mean like some kind of intro?" Viktor got up from his laying position, opting to sit instead.

"Not just 'some kind of intro'," Chris said, making a quote-motion with his fingers in the air, "but _the_ intro. I know you and Yuuri are doing most of the work of this album with the writing part, and we all have agreed on that. But if I have some kind of say in this band-"

" _You do_."

"- then I'm telling you that I want this. I want that intro to happen and I want it to be filled with our instruments. I want people that hear it to have an eargasm because of how good it is."

Viktor looked at his best friend for a long time. It wasn't often that Chris was so vocal about something when it came to the band. He had put his trust into Viktor all those years ago, telling him he would follow blindly, wherever Viktor decided to go with the band. And Chris had made good on that promise, always backing up Viktor when needed, and helping them keep their eyes on their goal. There had been very few requests from the Swiss over the years, and most weren't even that important when it came to the band. This however, was important for the band. Putting an intro song on their album could be a bold move, but Viktor liked the sound of it.

"Okay, let's do it," Viktor agreed.

"Just like that?" Chris asked, somewhat perplexed. It seemed as if he had expected Viktor to be opposed to the idea, as if Chris had prepared himself for more of a struggle to get his way.

"Just like that," Viktor confirmed. "I like the sound of it."

Chris grinned widely. "Good, give me your laptop."

Viktor obligued, handing the laptop to Chris and watching in silent as Chris fumbled around in the program. Various chords and melodies filled the studio, an incoherent mess of chords that didn't fit together at all. But Viktor stayed silent, instead trying to figure out what it exactly was where Chris was going. They had both majored in music, so Viktor knew Chris could at least somewhat compose a song, even if it wasn't his favourite thing to do. They had both learned how to compose songs, and what it took to write a song that would appeal to people.

Chris took his time, bopping his head up and down to the melody that was slowly forming. His eyes, tired as they may be, were focussed on the screen in front of him, the light iluminating his face softly. Eventually, he turned the volume up and pressed the play button.

It started off softly, just the humming of some kind of low horn-type of instrument. Then, a piano started, softly and sweetly, followed by the drums every few seconds. The song built slowly, new instruments added after a bit, until it almost sounded like a rock orchestra. It was still a bit rough around the edges, but Viktor could hear where Chris wanted to go with this.

"And I want Yuuri to provide vocals for when the song is around the part where the guitar starts. Perhaps his vocals also before that, but softer, almost talking," Chris explained.

"That would be really good," Viktor said honestly, looking at the way Chris had built the song in the program. It was a delicate buildup, slow and steady, but once it reached that tipping point, the song just went for it.

"Imagine what it would sound like as the opening of a concert." Something glistened in Chris eyes, something Viktor couldn't quite name.

But he could feel the same feeling inside his body. _Imagine_. Oh, and did he imagine. He envisioned a grand stage, the intro slowly seeping out from the speakers, and they would enter the stage, one by one. First Phichit, silently taking his place behind his beloved drums. Then Chris, his base guitar handed to him by a crew member. Then Viktor would step out, passing both Chris and Phichit as he took his place on the stage. And lastly, right before the vocals would really start, Yuuri would enter the stage, blowing everyone away with his voice.

"Oh, you are imagining it, aren't you?" Chris grinned widely at Viktor.

"A guy can dream, right?"

Chris chuckled. "Of course," he agreed. "Where would we be if you didn't have this dream as a teen?"

Viktor snorted. "Probably lost in the gutter."

"You might be right about that." Chris laughed, loud and free. "I have no idea what I would have done if it wasn't for this band. I only have music."

The statement felt familiar, a question laying underneath that Viktor had asked himself often enough throughout the years. What would he have been doing if he hadn't started the band with Chris all those years ago?

He would probably still live in Russia, for starters, with no dream to make it big in the music industry and with no legitimate excuse to get a degree in the States. His parents had been somewhat fine with him going, because the degree had been in music. While they hadn't been exactly ecstatic that Viktor wanted to become famous in the music industry, they had let him go anyway. Viktor doubted they would have let him go so easily for anything other then music. Their little family had been built around music - _heck_ , his parents had met through music - and while he knew his parents had hoped Viktor would pursuit a normal career, they had never told him that a career in music was off limits.

But what if he had decided to get a degree in something much more mundane? Would he have ended up in an office, working the regular nine to five job? The idea alone sounded dull in his own ears. While he was exhausted as hell from work at the moment, it was a good kind of exhausted. He loved the thrill of the music industry, the gambling part it had, and how no day was the same. He loved the moments where his body ached from recording too much or practicing too intense.

There simply wasn't anything else Viktor wanted to do. And it seemed Chris shared the sentiment.

"Well," Viktor said, breaking the amicable silence that had fallen between them. "I'm just glad you were crazy enough to follow me here and always have my back."

"Oh please." Chris rolled his eyes, but a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "We both know I came here for the hot girls."

Viktor looked at his friend, who was looking back at him with an utmost serious look on his face, before Viktor bursted out laughing. "I might have believed you," he managed to say in between his laughter, "if I didn't know you're the gayest man on earth."

"Maybe I swing both ways?"

Viktor laughed even harder at that, clutching at his stomach that started to hurt from the violent and intense movements, and gasped to get some fresh air into his lungs. "Yeah, don't think so, mate."

Chris cocked his head to the side. "Why not?" he asked, obviously trying to keep a straight face, but he was failing miserably. His eyes glistened with silent laughter, and he failed to keep the poker face in place.

"Because a girl kissed you when you were fifteen," Viktor told him, reminding both of them of the both horrible and hilarious experience when they had been nothing but horny and eager teenagers. "You had been so excited, but you whined for two full days about it afterwards, because it had been so horrible according to you." He smirked at his friend. "And you always stare at Phichit's ass when you think we aren't looking."

Chris snickered. "What can I say, he's got a good ass."

"If you say so." In truth, Viktor had never payed a lot of attention to their drummer's backside, nor did he really had the intention to.

Chris raised an eyebrow. "You can't tell me you've never looked at the behinds of our bandmates before. Or do you only have eyes for _Yuuri's_ ass?"

"What does Yuuri have to do with this?" Viktor asked, confused.

"Well," Chris started, leaning back in the chair. It squeecked dangerously underneath him, as if it threatened to give way soon. It probably wouldn't, seeing as the chairs in the studios had already been through a lot. "You stare at _his_ ass sometimes."

"What can I say," Viktor mimicked, in the same annoying voice Chris had used. "He's got a good ass."

Chris smacked him on the head.

"Oi!" Viktor protested, rubbing the spot on his head. "What was that for?"

" _Not_ what I meant, Viktor."

"Then what did you mean?" Viktor asked. He automatically checked his fingers for any sign of blood, an insanely stupid habit. Chris hadn't even hit him that hard and if Viktor's head would bleed from such a small smack on the head, he should get concerned with Chris having some kind of superstrenght neither of them knew about.

Chris threw Viktor a look and sighed. "You two are awfully close."

"We're _friends_ , Chris. And we write songs together. What do you think we're doing when we're in here together?" He motioned around the room. "We _work_. We write songs, we demo and record shit. We talk, we laugh, we eat. Yuuri and I are just friends, nothing more, nothing less."

Chris stayed silent for a while, his eyes intensely focussed on Viktors face. "Okay, fine, if you say so."

"Don't tell me you're jealous or something."

It was Chris's turn to laugh at that, the sound low, vibrating through the room. "Oh, honey, not at all. Now, how about we do some work together and make this demo into something good? You can teach me the ropes, so to say."

Viktor snorted. "Gladly so."

The air between them immediately cleared, the awkwardness that had creeped in washed away as they laughed like always. It had been ages since they had last played together, just the two of them messing around on their guitars.

Viktor had missed it, he realized. He had missed the easy vibe that was always there whenever he was with Chris, the two of them rarely bickering or angry with one another. It had always been that way, from the moment they had met in Russia.

Chris had been an outsider when they had met, seeing how he was different from the other kids. He was twelve and had just moved from his native country to Russia, speaking the language just barely. Kids had laughed at him, for the way Chris had pronounced words or had stumbled over the sentences. Viktor had taken pity on him, probably because he had seen something in Chris that had reminded Viktor of himself. Chris had been just as lost and just as lonely as Viktor had been. And that had been that - from that day on, they had been glued to eachothers side, bonding over music and silly things. Viktor thaught Chris to speak Russian, while Chris repayed the favor by teaching Viktor French. They had been a strange duo, but they worked and the friendship had grown and developed over the years, only growing stronger as they grew older.

Viktor watched his friend, as Chris played away on the small keyboard they had hooked up to the laptop. They weren't all that comfortable with other instruments, but they used the keyboard often enough these days to get a tune out there. It worked faster and easier, and Yakov had told them it was good to be able to play different instruments when needed.

Chris had grown immensely over the years, the chubby face developing into a strong jawline. Chris was handsome, and the Swiss was fully aware of that. He took good care of his body, often going to the gym in the early mornings or dancing away in clubs on his free nights. Viktor had never anticipated that the awkward new kid he had met all those years ago, would turn out to be such a flirt. Because that was what Chris was: a flirt. With a flick of his wrist, with a move of his head, or with one wink Chris could persuade them all. Viktor couldn't remember the many times they got free drinks because of Chris batting his eyelashes.

Viktor wondered whether Chris would be the flirtatious one of their band. Phichit would be, without a doubt, the social one, as he was already practically glued to his phone, conversing with the scarse fanbase they had, and always uploading stupid stuff about their recordings. Viktor didn't mind, most of the time. He wasn't as addicted to social media as their young drummer, though he did enjoy using Instagram and Snapchat from time to time.

Mostly, however, Viktor was curious to see what roll their vocalist would take. Yuuri was both crystal clear and a mystery, and it threw Viktor off.

_Yuuri_.

The vocalist was on his mind often, always creeping in at the most random times. Viktor simply assumed it was because the two of them spend so much time together - and really, Yuuri was an intruiging person. Viktor couldn't help the smile forming on his face as his mind wandered of the vocalist. Yuuri was such a beautiful mystery, hidden behind layers and layers Viktor had yet to see. He enjoyed peeling away those layers, learning about the things that made Yuuri, well... Yuuri.

Pity Chris had to interrupt.

"What are you smiling about?" he asked, glancing at Viktor out of the corners of his eyes. Somewhere during the night he had put on his glasses, giving him more of a sophisticated look. It was a look that suited Chris. He tended to wear easy clothes to practice, but he liked the sophisticated style, with his button ups and turtlenecks, and slacks for pants instead of jeans. It was such a stark contrast with the Chris they saw whenever they performed.

"That you look all smart like that," Viktor replied. He might be naive, but he wasn't stupid. Telling Chris what - or rather who - had been on his mind was practically suicide. Whatever Chris thought was going on between Yuuri and Viktor wasn't happening, and Viktor didn't feel the need to fuel Chris' dangerous thoughts.

"Take a picture, darling, they last longer." Chris threw him a look, but something mischievous glistened in those eyes of his.

"Not a bad idea, actually," Viktor said, fishing his phone out of his pockets. "We might as well hype the shit out of this album while we're at it."

"Might be a good idea, since Yakov is already promoting it," Chris hummed.

"He is," Viktor sighed, reminded of the disastrous way their manager had decided to promote their debuting album.

In true Yakov style, promoting the album had suddenly started one morning. Viktor had driven to the studio, only to be greeted with his face own face when he entered the building. In truth, he had been greeted by all four of their faces, insanely large and the text _debut album coming soon_ smacked agressively on there. It was safe to say Viktor hadn't agreed with the way their manager had decided to so _subtly_ promote it, but he had kept his mouth shut.

Yuri Plisetsky hadn't.

Viktor's ears still hurt from the screaming the entire building had been able to hear. Yuri had been _disappointed_ , to say the least, that Yakov choose to promote Viktor's band over Otabek and him, yelling and kicking at everything that was in his way. Yakov had dragged the teenager into his office, where the screeching had been reduced to muffled protests outsiders couldn't hear. Viktor had tried, desperately, to hear whatever was said on the other side of the door, but he hadn't been able to hear anything, to his utter disappointment.

Nevertheless, it was probably a good idea to promote their upcoming album, albeit a lot more subtly. Their scarce fanbase had been growing somewhat since Yuuri had joined their band, and they hoped to gain new fans after their first live.

Ah, the first live...

Viktor had been talking to Yakov about that. Since a tour would follow rapidly after the debut of their album if everything went according to plan, there wouldn't be a lot of time to do some propper lives. And Viktor wanted to do a few smaller shows before touring, to get a feeling of what it was like to play with Yuuri, outside of practice. It had taken him some time to persuade Yakov, but in the end their manager had agreed. Their first live would be in a few days, with a second and third one in the following days after, where they would debut their oldest songs (that were now revamped, of course) and probably three new songs. He knew Yuuri desperately wanted to play _Monster_ , but Viktor didn't feel comfortable yet with playing that particular song. They were, however, going to play _Agape_ and _Eros_ , as they were the songs that had started their journey. They were special and they were good songs to show some of their diversity.

Viktor messed around with his phone, shooting at random angles and with different filters, throwing the camera some looks. "Are you scared?" he asked, trying to look into the camera with a suave look. Chris did the same, nailing the look Viktor had been trying to achieve on the first try. Viktor took a picture anyway. "Of the live, I mean?"

"I am," Chris said honestly, raking a hand through his blonde curls. "Terrified, actually."

"Me too," Viktor admitted softly. "What if we fail?"

Chris cocked his head to the said, and pulled a face. Viktor did the same, snapping another few pictures where they acted like children, sticking out their tongues. "We won't fail," Chris spoke after they had taken a bunch of photos. Viktor was looking through them, deleting the ones that looked horrible. "We have Yuuri, right? He's a lot better than Alex, so we should be good."

"I'm not doubting Yuuri." Viktor looked at one particular ridiculous picture, but decided to keep it anyway. "I am doubting myself. What if I fuck up during one of the solos?"

Chris shrugged. "Then you fuck up, Viktor. We aren't perfect and I don't think anyone is expecting us to be."

Viktor glanced it his friend. The words were true, Viktor knew that, but he couldn't help the feeling growing in his stomach. What if they messed up so badly that no one ever wanted to see them play again? They had done lives before, with Alex as their vocalist, and they had always gone allright enough. Sure, they had messed up countless of times, but they had laughed about it after the shows, telling themselves they would try to be better next time.

But now they had Yuuri, and Yuuri was on a whole other level than Alex. They were _all_ on another level now, with their first album close to being finished. Once that album was out and they would tour, they could call themselves proper musicians. There was so much pressure on their shoulders to do it right, to not be one of those artists that had one album and vanished of the earth after that. Viktor _refused_ to be like those artists. They were here to stay - _he_ was here to stay. He wanted people to remember him, to remember them, to scream their names whenever they walked by. He wanted the fame and the glory, and everything that came along with it.

Viktor had dreamed of it often, knowing full well what being famous entailed. His parents had taught him that with their respective careers, and Viktor had become somewhat of a celebrity through them in Russia. It had been though at times, with paparazzi following his every move. But in America no one had known him, and it had felt so wrong. He had missed the attention, the whispers, the random fans coming up to him with shy smiles and asking for his autograph. Call him egocentric, but Viktor knew he was meant to live a life in the spotlight, where he could please people and make them smile.

Alex both breathed life into that dream as well as sucking it dry. He had given them a voice, but had lacked the drive they had needed. It had become clear to Vikter after they had recorded their second single. They had all been ecstatic, over the moon with another single done - but not Alex. Alex had simply sighed, stating it was _"Such a tiring process, boys_ " - and had walked away. The third single had been even more gruesome, with Alex only barely making it on time to record the vocals.

And now they had Yuuri. Beautiful and amazing Yuuri, who could sing like no other - and Viktor didn't want to mess up. He wanted to make it, to make it with the four of them as History Maker.

Viktor shook his head, the thoughts in his head spinning and all over te place. He had gone down _that_ path again, he realized, with all the forbidden thoughts and emotions he wasn't ready to face yet. He wasn't ready to forgive Alex yet nor was he ready to face everything else that came along with that acceptance.

His body jerked in surprise when Chris touched his shoulder.

"You okay there?" Chris asked. His eyes scanned worriedly over Viktors face. "You spaced out for a moment."

And Viktor had, hadn't he? He had been so lost in thoughts for the past few minutes that he hadn't even realised he was still here, in their studio. "Sorry," he muttered, shaking his heads again as if he wanted to physically shake the thoughts away. "Just a lot on my mind."

"You know I'm always here for you, right?" It wasn't a question, Viktor realised, simply a statement.

"I know." He tried to smile, to permanently ban the thoughts out of his minds. But he was aware it was futile - the thoughts would creep in whenever his guard was down, silently whispering to him until they were no whispers anymore.

Chris pursed his lips. "Okay, now let's upload one of those ridiculous pictures you took. After that, we can finish this demo and crash in here. I'm too tired to go home anyway."

So they uploaded one of the pictures - a rather stupid one with the both of them trying to look suave. Chris captioned it with something along the lines of _'Last few days of recording with my beau, wish us luck!_ _'_ and tagged Viktor in the post.

"There," Chris said, smiling at the phone in his hand with smug satisfaction, "now let's finish this demo."

Viktor nodded, putting his phone on silent and laying it aside. He silently scolded himself and forced the remaining lingering thoughts to go and stay away. The album was far more important than his own fears and worries.

~

Viktor woke up the next morning with a horrible crick in the neck.

He had fallen asleep on the couch, his body awkwardly positioned into a small ball on one end, with Chris snorring in a similar position on the other end of the couch. While the couch could hold one person quite comfortably for a night, it was far too small for two persons to sleep on. And boy, did Viktor feel that in his body; his limbs were numb, his joints were aching.

Multiple joints cracked the moment he moved to a sitting position, and a groan escaped past his lips. "I feel old," he mumbled to no one in particular - Chris was still snorring on his left.

"You _are_ old."

Viktor's head jerked up and in the entrance stood Yuuri, Phichit snickering behind him. So much for mumbleing to no one in particular. " _Yuuri_ ," Viktor whined, his voice still hoarse with sleep. "I'm not old."

"You're older than me," he pointed out, shrugging his shoulders. He stepped into the studio, Phichit still on his tail. Yuuri was dressed somewhat differently today, with black jeans hugging his thighs in all the right places and a comfortable white and blue striped sweater. His hair was also slicked back again and he wore his contact lenses. Viktor swallowed audibly at the sight.

" _Morning_ ," Phichit sing-songed, dropping his bag unceremoniously on the floor and grinning brightly. Phichit, in contrast, was dressed exactly like himself, in bright and sparkling colours from head to too, with far too many accessories. But somehow, the Thai boy always pulled off the looks, looking rather stylish instead of a disorganized mess.

"You guys couldn't come in _quietly_ _?_ _"_ Chris grunted annoyed, groaning as he batted the last of sleep away. He looked like shit, Viktor thought and he wanted to snicker at the sight, but he remembered just in time that he probably looked just as bad.

"It's Phichit," Viktor said instead, as if that clarified everything. "The word quiet isn't in his dictionary."

" _Hey_ _!"_ Phichit exclaimed at the same moment both Yuuri and Chris snickered - though it sounded more like a very painful groan from Chris' side.

"Rough night?" Yuuri asked empathically, dropping his bag in the corner. The sweater was a bit oversized, Viktor noticed, covering part of his hands. "What are both of you guys already doing here anyway?"

"We stayed the night," Chris answered before Viktor could, standing to grab a bottle of water from the fridge before plopping back down on the couch.

"Chris had an amazing idea," Viktor added. "I think we passed out from exhaustion a few hours ago."

Yuuri raised an eyebrow. "What was the idea?"

Viktor motioned for Phichit to pass the laptop that was still laying on the chair he had sat in last night. "Keep in mind that it is still a demo," he warned them, before pressing play.

The demo had come a long way from the first notes Viktor had heard last night. The familiar humming sound from a horn-type instrument filled the studio, followed by soft notes from a piano. Then came the drums, slow and steady, building and building, until the music suddenly stopped. For a fraction of a second, nothing could be heard, but then the demo continued, the drums loud, the guitar rough, and the base providing a deep and beautiful sound. It sounded so hauntingly beautiful now, even without the vocals Chris had envisioned. One and a half minute of pure bliss, of total chaos mashed into one beautiful harmony.

"I love it," Phichit exclaimed enthusiastically, his hands already beating the drum rythm on his upper legs. It was amazing how skilled he was, sometimes, and how dedicated he was.

"I do to," Yuuri said, but he was biting his lip thoughtfully. "But what is it supposed to be?"

"An eargasm," Chris said, looking a lot more awake than he had a few minutes ago. "We still have to add your vocals, but it is going to be the first song on the album."

Viktor nodded. "It an intro."

"It's going to be the song that is played the moment we walk on stage and take our place," Chris added. "I wanted something that would define us, but would also show people we aren't here to play around."

Yuuri hummed and sat down between Chris and Viktor. It fit barely and Viktor could feel Yuuri's thigh touching his own, their elbows bumping into eachother with every movement. Yuuri reached over and pressed play again, listening to the demo once more. "It's really good," he said after the last notes died down.

"Thanks," Chris said, smiling from ear to ear. "I wasn't sure whether you guys would like it."

"Why wouldn't we?" Yuuri asked, his eyebrows furrowed together with confusion. "It's amazing!"

"I think," Phichit said, his voice suddenly a lot more serious than normal, "that Chris meant he wasn't sure wether _you_ would like it."

Yuuri looked totally lost at that moment. "What?"

Viktor couldn't help but notice the look in Chris' eyes. He knew that look too well: it was the same look everytime Alex had shot down one of their ideas. He sighed deeply, suddenly understanding the meaning beind Chris' words from yesterday. "Alex wouldn't have liked it."

Chris flinched at that, but tried laughing it off. "It's silly how much that dude still affects me sometimes."

Viktor shook his head. "It isn't. I think we are all still affected by the way Alex behaved sometimes."

"It sounds like Alex wasn't that great of a friend nor a good member of the band," Yuuri spoke softly.

Viktor stayed silent, but internally he was screaming. It seemed that no matter what he did or said, in the end Alex always come back on their minds, like a parasite feeding on his host. It wasn't right, that they were so affected by their former vocalist nor was it right they pushed all the blame on said man is well. It wasn't fair to blame Alex for everything that had gone wrong, but the way Alex had treated them hadn't been fair either. Alex had treathened more often then not to quit on them when he didn't agree with their vision and, scared as they had been to loose their vocalist, they had listened to Alex. It was the reason why their singles had been so infused with pop-sounds they hadn't wanted, why there weren't more instrumental parts in their music. It was the reason why Chris had stopped composing songs, frustrated and annoyed by the far too many ' _no's_ ' he had gotten in response.

But it still wasn't completely Alex' fault, was it? Viktor had let Alex do de things the way he did, not once stopping him. He had never told Alex no, too scared to loose him, too afraid he would have to let his dream go.

In hindsight, Viktor had been an immensely egocentric leader, only thinking about _his_ future.

He sighed loudly, averting his gaze to the floor. "It wasn't only his fault," he mumbled, not daring to speak any louder. "It was also my fault for not speaking up against him." He looked up again, locking eyes with Yuuri. "We were supposed to be a band, a family, but we were always three against one. Alex was never fully one of us, either by his choice or by our wrongdoing."

"In a situation like that, I don't know whether you can speak about who's at fault and who isn't," Yuuri said. "I think, from what I've heard about Alex, that he was a good guy, just not a great band member for you three. And that's no ones fault, _ne_? Sometimes people just don't fit together that well, and that happens, but then both sides should say something about it."

Phichit snorted. "Well, we definately didn't talk about stuff like that, so neither sides said something. We just... kept moving on, I think, hoping it would all turn out fine."

"Oh, how fine it turned out," Chris said sarcastically. "But I think you do have a point, Yuuri. Alex might have liked the idea of being in a band, but we just didn't match, not as friends, but definately not as band members."

"But that's not your fault, nor his." Yuuri smiled at them reassuringly. "And I want you guys to know that it's not like that anymore. _We_ are a family, so we're in this together, are we not?"

Viktor smiled, those familiar warm feelings creeping inside his body again. "That's right." And Yuuri was right. They were already more of a family than they had ever been with Alex and that wasn't wrong nor right, that was just how it was. "Now, how about you and Chris go work out those ideas for the vocals and Phichit and I will get some coffee from that cafe?"

Yuuri laughed. "That sounds lovely, thank you."

Viktor stood up and collected his coat, in case it was colder then expected outside. Phichit stood as well and together they walked towards the door. Viktor just heard Chris scream " _An extra cafffeine shot in mine, please!"_ before closing the door to the studio behind them.

"Wow, he is always so demanding in the morning," Phichit chuckled as they walked down the stairs.

Viktor chuckled as well. "He is, isn't he?"

"Maybe we should spike his drink instead?" A mischievous grin formed around his mouth, his eyes sparkling with something almost cinister. "I mean, he did grow up most of his teenage years in Russia, right? So he should be able to hold a drink."

"He can hold himself better than I can, when it comes to that aspect," Viktor admitted regretfully. For a native Russian he wasn't exactly that good with alcohol. The times Chris had to carry Viktor home after a night out couldn't be counted on one hand (nor by two).

Phichit snorted, the sound undignified and earning a few confused looks from people passing by. "Yuuri was right," he said brightly, ignoring the look Viktor threw his way. "You are the worst Russian in history. Even Yuuri can hold his liquor far better than you."

That piqued Viktor's interest. "You've seen Yuuri drunk?"

The question was answered with a look from Phichit that clearly said _please_. "Of course I have. We've been rooming together for the past four years. What roommate would I be if I hadn't dragged him to all those parties so we could carry our drunk asses back to our dorms together?"

The image that formed in his had was so ridiculous that Viktor laughed out loud. "I would give the world to see that," he admitted.

"Of course you would."

They entered the cafe together, giving their orders to the friendly barista behind the counter. As they waited for their coffees to arrive, they talked about the parties Phichit had dragged Yuuri to, laughing whenever the two of them had done stuff they had regretted in the morning.

"... and I kid you not," Phichit said as he grabbed the tray holding their coffees, "Yuuri was suddenly there in the room, dancing like no one was watching. It was beautiful. And of course that idiot had to pull out those moves the day before Valentine. You can't even imagine how flooded our dorm was the next day with roses and cards from people all over campus saying how much they wanted to dance with Yuuri."

"Damn," Viktor laughed, "Yuuri must have taken that well?"

"Not at all. You know how he is whenever people show interest in him or compliment him. It took me over three hours to coax him out of his bedroom and another two to get him out of our dorm to get some food."

"Oh _no_ ," Viktor said, already imagining how that entire ordeal had went. From what he knew about Yuuri, it couldn't have gone well.

"Oh _yes_ ," Phichit chuckled. "I had to drag Yuuri to the nearest restaurant so we could order some food and then drag him back to the dorm. The entire time we had to wait for our order, he was trying to flee to the bathroom. It took an entire week before Yuuri finally dared to go out without hiding himself with glasses and hats like he was some kind of celebrity."

"Tell me you have a picture of that."

Phichit gasped. "Of _course_ I have a picture of that. I'm wounded that you think I wouldn't have taken a picture of it. I'll text it to you later, as well as the videos I took of Yuuri dancing. I don't care whatever he says, he dances incredible and it's actually worth to watch."

Imagines formed in Viktors head that did the strangest things to his heart. "Please do," he said. "I look forward to it."

They entered the studio with grins on their faces and handed the coffees to Chris and Yuuri.

"How's it going?" Phichit asked, sitting down in one of the chairs. Viktor sat down beside him, taking a sip of his coffee.

"It's going great, actually. Yuuri had the most amazing idea," Chris said excitedly. "Here, listen to this." He pressed a button in the laptop and the now familiar drumming filled the studio, as did the piano. It was after a short while, when the drums really started, that Yuuri started to talk. The words were unfamiliar, foreign, until the short moment of silence. Yuuri's voice blended in perfectly with the instruments, bringing the entire song to a new level. Chris looked at them with the biggest grin ever when the song was over. "Pretty cool, eh?"

"Did you just... speak Japanese?" Viktor asked, ignoring Chris for the moment.

" _Hai_ ," Yuuri confirmed, smiling proudly. "I thought it would suit the song, especially in the beginning. When it gets heavier, I'm switching to English, as it allows people to sing or scream along. Can you imagine all those people screaming along to our intro when we enter the stage?"

Viktor nodded, because he could. He had already envisioned it yesterday, when Chris had talked about the intro for the first time, but now he could almost _feel_ it. He could almost touch the vision as if it was real.

"Let's record it now!" Phichit exclaimed suddenly. "We have that live in a few days, right? If we record it now, we can use it as a teaser for the album and play it on our first live. It can literally be our intro from the very first show we do together."

"That might be the best idea any of us had," Chris said, standing up abruptly. "I'll talk to the guys downstairs, we're going to record this baby today and make it perfect."

"Hell yes!" Phichit jumped up from the chair excitedly.

Yuuri laughed and stood up as well, looking at Viktor as he spoke. "We're going to do this today, and after that we're going to sit down and write those remaining songs."

Viktor grinned. "Yes, please."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it, the biggest part of their recording for the first album is done! Next chapter we will see them wrap up the recordings and do their first live together.
> 
> This chapter was so difficult to write. It had a lot of dialogue in there, which is the part I always find the most difficult to write. But I really wanted to let Chris and Viktor have their moment, as well as have Phichit in there. We also dove a bit further into the whole Alex drama and learn that it's not only Viktor that is having a though time with it. The situation was far more complex that I had originally envisioned, but I do enjoy writing about it.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. As I said, I found it difficult to write this one, both because of the way this chapter is (more or less a transition chapter in which we develop friendships) and because of personal stuff happening. I really had to sit down, blast music from my speakers and get into a good zone where I could write and finish this chapter.
> 
> I am also terribly sorry for any mistakes I may have made. When I have the time, I will go back and take out any mistakes I may find in this or earlier chapters.
> 
> If you're wondering, by the way, the intro song is heavily based off of the first song on the 35xxxv album (called 35xxxv, how nice). It's a really good song, in my humble opinion!
> 
> Anyhow, take care people, thank you all so much for all the kuddos and comments! They always put an immense smile on my face.
> 
> See you all next chapter!


	5. Clock Strikes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _What will we have?  
>  Believe that time is always forever  
> And I'll always be here  
> Believe it till the end  
> I won't go away and won't say never  
> It doesn't have to be friend  
> You can keep it till the end_
> 
> Clock Strikes - One OK Rock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing but my mistakes and imagination - and for this chapter, also bad time management.

It was far past dinner time when the four of them had finally finished the recordings for the introduction song and had added the instrumental parts they didn't play personally with the production team. It wasn't a song they would actually play live, so they weren't that bothered by the instruments that were added in digitally. They had also liked the idea of mixing in some Japanese lyrics enough that they had kept it. Yuuri had been right on that aspect; it suited the song perfectly.

They were listening to the final product right now, after multiple times of recording again or mixing up something. If they were okay with the way it sounded at this very moment, the intro would be done. It was funny, Viktor thought, how it was one of the latest songs they had written and recorded, but would be the first song to be officially finished. All the other songs were still undergoing last revisions and having minor edits to make them perfect.

The familiar beats of the horn-instruments, which had been digitally added, as well as the first notes of the piano filled the room. They had originally wanted to add the piano chords later on digitally as well, but Phichit had asked a friend to come and play if live for them. Viktor had been surprised to know Phichit was rather good friends with Seung-Gil Lee, because the young adult was both serious and reserved, while Phichit was always one big bubble of joy and fun. Viktor didn't complain, however, as Seung-Gil turned out to be immensely skilled on the piano, playing the chords perfectly after listening to the demo a few times. It was impressive.

Yuuri's voice filled the room, the soft spoken Japanese adding to the somewhat mysterious vibe the instruments brought. It was amazing to listen to and it gave Viktor chills - the good kind of chills, of course. He was bopping his leg up and down to the beat that could be softly heard underneath by anyone that took the time to actually listen. He noticed that Chris did the same, moving his head along with the music.

Viktor could feel his breath catching in his throat the moment the instruments stopped for a fraction of second, with only Yuuri's voice filling the silence. And then the song went wild, with Yuuri's voice at the tipping point between singing and screaming, a distinctive rawness in his voice, and the instruments on full force. It was a beautiful chaos, but organized into something perfect.

It was silent for a few seconds after the song was over, with the four of them lost in their own thoughts.

"Fuck," was Phichit's undignified response that broke the silence. "It is so _lit_." He practically squeeled the last word, excitement visible in every fiber of his being. "That point where the music goes wild is _insane_."

Viktor couldn't help but agree. It was the shortest song on their album - which made sense as it was just the introduction song - but it was one and a half minute filled with pure epicness.

"Is it the way you envisioned it?" Yuuri asked Chris. He had taken of that oversized jumper somewhere during the day, revealing a tight black v-shaped shirt underneath. It might not be visible underneath all those layers of oversized clothing Yuuri liked to wear, but he was actually in quite a good shape. It could be seen in the way the clothes clothes clung to his body, accenting the dips and curves that Yuuri usually kept hidden under his comfortable clothes. Viktor couldn't wait to see what Yuuri would look like on stage, singing and - hopefully - dancing the night away.

Chris shook his head. "No, it's so much more than I had envisioned. The vocals just bring it to another level, it's insane. And to sing it in Japanese in the beginning was probably the best idea you could have come up with." He grinned brightly, almost to the point where it started to look idiotic. Chris was practically glowing as if he was an expecting mother. "I know we're proud of all our songs, but this one feels different, you know?"

Yuuri nodded. "It feels like a new beginning, doesn't it?"

"It does," Viktor agreed, because it _did_. It was the song that had properly brought the four of them together, which had been a work between all of them. It was the song that had allowed them to talk about their fears - no matter how brief it had been. "So we all agree that this is the final product?" He looked at his fellow band members, who were all nodding enthusiastically.

"Great," Greg, the producer, said, rubbing his eyes - it sounded like it was far from great. "Now all you guys need is a name for the track and then it's good to go." He yawned loudly, suddenly looking years beyond his age. "And I would appreciate you guys not taking another hour to decide, because I have a family waiting for me at home."

"Sorry, Greg," Chris apologized sincerly, "we didn't think it would take this long."

Greg shook his head, smiling tiredly. "You guys are lucky it's a really good track, otherwise I would've gone home hours ago. You know what," he huffed, stretching his body. The cracks and pops of his joints loosening resonated through the room. "Just text me the title it's gonna get, I'll make sure it's ready for you guys first thing in the morning."

"Thanks," Viktor said sincerly, "you're the best."

Greg huffed as he stood from his chair and grabbed his coat. "I know, darling. You guys are lucky you're fun to work with." He walked towards the door, leaving the quartet behind. "Oh, and do go home soon as well, boys. Yakov will have my head if he knows I worked this long with you guys."

"Don't worry, we will be on our way soon," Viktor said at the exact moment Phichit's stomach started to rumble. They all laughed at that. "See, our bodies need some food soon anyway."

"Good," Greg hummed before saying his goodbyes to them and leaving the room. Viktor watched him go, and suddenly realized how lucky they were to have Greg as their head producer. Of course the team that worked behind the scenes wasn't just Greg, but Greg was top of the bill and respected in the music industry. It had been sheer luck that Yakov had assigned Greg to the four of them and Viktor couldn't be happier to have the producer on board.

Phichit cleared his throat, getting their attention. "As much as I would love to listen to that track another million times, how about we decide the name for it over dinner?"

"Eating is for the weak," Yuuri teased, but he grabbed his bag and jumper anyway.

"I'll happily be weak then," Phichit clipped back, not bothered at all by the light teasing from his best friend. Viktor admired that about Phichit, the way the younger adult could so easily brush something off. It might just have been the lightest of teasing, but Phichit reacted similar in more serious situations. Viktor wished he was able to brush things off as easily.

Chris put his guitar in his case and zipped it close. "But then the most important question," he said, hoisting the guitar case over his shoulder. "Where are we going to eat?"

"No Japanese," Phichit said, the moment Yuuri wanted to open his mouth. "I'm sorry, Yuuri, I know you love your food, but I've had to eat noodles far too many times the past week."

"But they are good," Yuuri pouted, "and easy to make. Be happy I cooked for you, you ungrateful bastard."

Phichit feigned shock. "Me, ungrateful? _Never_." He put his jacket and hat on. The jacket looked rather dull compared to his colorful outfit, as it was a simple leather jacked with some studs here and there. "But even _you_ have to get tired of Japanese food sometimes, right?"

Yuuri eyed his friend for a moment, as if he was debating his next answer carefully. "Perhaps."

Phichit squeeled with victory. " _See!_ No Japanese tonight then! Come on boys, I know just the place that isn't far. _Pip-pip_ _!_ "

Viktor looked at Chris with amusement. "Did he really just say that?"

Chris shook his head in disbelief. "He really just said that. I swear, that kid never ceases to amaze me."

Yuuri chuckled. "Me neither, Chris."

" _I can hear you!_ " Phichit yelled from the other side of the door, causing them all to laugh. They followed the Thai boy soon after, closing the recording room behind them, not once stopping with their silly bantering.

They laughed and talked freely as they walked outside, following Phichit's occasional "Right here!" and "Left now!". The weather had cooled down a bit, since the sun was setting, but it was still nice enough to walk without a proper coat. Yuuri had put on his jumper though, and they all wore they coats, but they hung loose and open around their bodies.

True to Phichit's words, the place wasn't that far from Feltmans building, only a couple of minutes by foot. It was a small business that claimed to serve the best burgers in town (Viktor wasn't convinced yet) if the obnoxious red sticker on the window was anything to go by. But the place itself was nice and cozy and not too overly crowded. The four of them found a table in one of the corners easily, away from prying eyes and eager ears. A small waitress joined them soon, asking for their orders with a pleasant smile on her face.

After giving their orders, they stayed silent for a bit, each of them nursing the drink the waitress had placed on their table a within minutes. The place wasn't too crowded, but it wasn't exactly empty either. Most of the people seemed to be around their age, however, presumebly students or couples that were grabbing a late dinner. It was understandable, Viktor mused silently to himself, as the place had a comfortable atmosphere, with an almost Western-like decor. It didn't hurt either that the food was on the cheap side and that they, from what Viktor could judge from looking at other tables, were generous with their portions.

"This was the place Yuuri and I always went to after we had an exam and had binged on instant noodles for a week," Phichit said, reminiscing on the old days.

"Ugh," Yuuri exclaimed, scrunching his nose up. "Don't remind me of those days. I had to explain to my mom why I didn't want to eat Japanese the day after that exam we had at the end of our first year. I think I couldn't eat noodles for a month after that."

"Ah, the joys of being a poor student," Chris laughed.

"I still don't understand why I ate them, though," Yuuri said, sitting up straight. A serious look took over his facial features. "They taste like absolute shit when you think about it."

Phichit shook his head. "They don't. You only think so because your parents spoiled you with their delicious cooking," he said, in a matter-of-fact voice.

Viktor stirred his diet coke with the straw - which was in the same obnoxious bright red color as the letters on the window were - they had put in his drink. "I think it just depends," he said thoughtfully. "Isn't it similar to when you try your favourite dish in another country?"

"How so?" Phichit asked curiously.

"When I just moved here, I think I tried every variant of borscht they sell around here, but not one of them tasted the same as the ones they sell in Russia."

"Oh, don't remind me," Chris groaned. "I think I can never even eat that dish anymore. You ruined it forever for me."

"I feel like there's a story to that," Yuuri laughed.

Chris nodded. " _Believe me_ ," he said grimly, "there is."

"Tell us, tell us!" Phichit squeeled excitedly, almost bouncing up and down in his chair. If it wasn't for the food being served, he probably would have continued bouncing up and down like the happy ball of energy he is, but one smell of the burger in front of him seemed to be enough to silence him.

Viktor eyed the drummer with amusement, the way the younger dug into his burger without a care in the world. It was almost comical, and Viktor simply watched for a while as he waited for his burger to cool down to an edible temperature.

"Okay," Chris said after taking a bite of his burger. He chewed slowly, a thoughtful look on his face. "So when Viktor and I moved here all those years ago, Viktor couldn't get used to eating American food on a daily basis. He thought that eating some proper Russian food would be the cure. So imagine Viktor walking around the neighbourhood and buying all the Russian food he could get his hand on. Mind you, this was still in the time when we shared an appartment, and said appartment was literally stacked with all sorts of Russian food." Chris shook his head at the memory. "I was sort of fine with that, but then Viktor got it into his head that he needed to eat borscht. And I kid you not, he bought so much of it, from restaurants and grocery stores, that we had to eat all the leftovers for _two entire weeks_. It was horrible."

Yuuri snorted. "And here I wanted to taste some proper borscht once."

"You will," Viktor said without thinking, "once you come to Russia."

"And why would I come to Russia?"

Viktor blinked once, blinked twice, rewinding the words he had spoken mere seconds ago. The unspoken _with me_ seemed to still linger in the air between the. " _Oh_ ," he muttered, suddenly realising how his words could have been interpreted. And judging by the smirking Chris on his right and the giggling Phichit in front of him, his words hadn't been interpreted the way he had meant them. "Not like that, you idiots," he said, trying to salvage the situation. "We better make it famous enough that we play in Russia as well, so when we get there, we'll eat proper borscht together. _That's_ what I meant."

"Sure, darling, if you say so," Chris said, still smirking.

Viktor tried to ignore it, focussing on his burger instead and waiting for one of the others to steer the conversation into another direction. Luckily, Phichit decided he wanted to know more from the time Chris and Viktor had been sharing an apartment, eagerly asking far too many and far too personal questions. Viktor stayed silent, instead eating the now slightly cold burger, listening to Chris talking openly about all the stupid shit they had pulled off.

He couldn't comprehend the feelings that were raging inside his chest, nor explain the faint blush that tinted his cheeks. His emotiones were a whirlwind of everything and he tried his best to focus on his burger only. To no avail, however, as his mind seemed to live a life of his own these days. He glanced at Yuuri, expecting the younger man to have his focus on the conversation (they were talking about the time when Chris and Viktor had shut themselves outside of the appartment, while it was raining like crazy), but he stared straight into those innocent brown eyes, open and wide, inviting almost.

And Viktor couldn't understand the tightening in his chest nor the burning in his heart.

~

In the end, they had decided to simply name their new song _Introduction_. As amazing as the track was, they couldn't agree on a name that was both meaningful and strong, and since they didn't have the intention to actually play the track live, there was no need to ever announce the track on stage. Viktor texted Greg the name as they walked out of the restaurant together. It had gotten chillier, and they all pulled their jackets and coats tight around their bodies.

"Okay," Viktor said as he put his phone back in his pocket. "I texted Greg the title and he gave us a thumbs up."

"I'm so excited to see what it will sound like on stage," Chris sighed contently. It was understandable that he was the most enthusiastic of all, seeing how it had been his idea.

"Me too!" Phichit said excitedly. "I bet it will look amazing."

Yuuri chuckled. "I guess we'll find out in a few days, _ne_?" He looked at Chris and Phichit. "Go home, you two. You guys must be tired."

"I'm not tired," Phichit said, but he yawned a few seconds later, causing them all to laugh. "Okay, maybe a _bit_. But shouldn't you two be going home as well?"

Yuuri shook his head. "Viktor and I are going to finish writing tonight. We still want another song, maybe two, on the album and I'm feeling particulary inspirational today."

"Ah, the inspirational moods of Katsuki Yuuri," Viktor mused. "We better not let those moods go to waste."

"We'll see you guys tomorrow then," Chris said. "Don't overwork yourselves though, we still need to record tomorrow."

"Don't worry, we'll take care of ourselves," Yuuri promised.

They all said their goodbyes, hugging eachother shortly in a friendly embrace, before they each went their own way. Viktor watched his friends go, their silhouettes getting smaller with each passing second. It was a serene sight, somehow, and Viktor suddenly wasn't in any rush to go home. The night was a bit chilly, chillier than when they had walked to the restaurant, but the sky was clear and the stars were bright. He looked at Yuuri, who was watching him with a blank face, void of any emotiones. Those dark eyes were simply looking, patiently waiting for Viktor to take the lead. It was funny, how Yuuri tended to take the lead whenever they were all together, but whenever it was just the two of them, Yuuri would wait.

Viktor cleared his throat, blinking a few times. Chris and Phichit had long been gone, leaving nothing but silence. "Let's go home," he said absentmindedly, holding out his hand for Yuuri to take. It wasn't a conscious action, not in the slightest. Chris and he had done similar thinks in the past often enough, holding hands, interlinking their arms or something alike. It had been such an unconscious movement, something that had become so automatic to do over the years. He had seen Yuuri and Phichit doing similar things, often walking side by side with their arms interlinked.

Viktor hadn't expected Yuuri to actually grab his hand and intertwine their fingers together.

And it felt nice. Yuuri's hand was warm against his own slightly cold fingers, the skin soft and delicate in his own calloused hand. Lovers had told Viktor they had disliked his hands, claiming they were too rough, too chapped. Yuuri, however, didn't complain, instead squeezing their interlinked hands slightly and smiling at Viktor.

"Lead the way," he breathed, his breath forming the tiniest of clouds.

They walked in silence mostly, holding onto eachothers hand far tighter than they probably should, neither of them speaking. They simply walked, enjoying the calm and friendly atmosphere that surrounded them. It wasn't until they were almost at Viktors house when Yuuri spoke again, breaking the amicable silence between them.

"So, you and Chris lived together, _hm_?"

It was an innocent question, a simple continuation on the conversation they had had at the small diner. And yet, Viktor looked down - Yuuri was almost a head smaller than him - and tried to search Yuuri's face for something. It was an innocent question, yes, but the underlying tone Yuuri had spoken in suggested anything _but_ innocence.

"Oh lighten up," Yuuri laughed, bumping his shoulder lightly into Viktors arm. "I'm just joking around, okay. Didn't know it was such a sensitive topic."

Viktor shook his head. "It isn't. Sorry," he apologized, "you just caught me off guard." He tried to smile, to make it believable, to desperately force all the confusing thoughts and feelings that were currently raging through his body to calm the fuck down. "But yes, Chris and I lived together for a little over a year when we moved here."

"Interesting," Yuuri hummed, looking in front of them again. "And why did you guys seperate?"

"Why do you think?"

"You and your cravings for proper Russian food?"

Viktor threw Yuuri a look. " _No_ ," he said semi-annoyed. His cravings for proper Russian food hadn't been  _that_ bad, in his own humble opinion. "We seperated because of Chris's cravings for... _unholy_ stuff."

Yuuri missed a beat, causing Viktor to walk on unsuspectingly, yanking almost painfully on the vocalist's arm. "Don't tell me the reason is because of sex?"

"I wouldn't call it just 'sex'," Viktor huffed. "The things I've seen and heard Chris say and do are forever engraved in my mind, thank you very much."

Yuuri laughed. "You're joking. You _have_ to be joking."

Viktor stopped walking, pulling on Yuuri's hand so that the younger man was looking at him directly. "Yuuri," he spoke, in a serious voice, "I _wish_ I was joking."

Yuuri's eyes searched his face, the laugh slowly dying from his lips, the smirk changing into horror. "Oh _god_ , you aren't joking."

Viktor truly wished he had been joking, but sadly he hadn't been. They usually told people they had matured enough that they felt ready to live on their own, but in truth, Chris had been so busy getting off, that Viktor had walked into some of those adventures far too many times. Sure, they laughed a lot about in now, in the privacy of their own homes and with the luxary of a good glass of vodka in their hand, reminiscing about the old days. But back then, Viktor hadn't been able to laugh about it at all. He still vividly remembered the one time when he got home late from one particular exam, only to find a stranger bent over the dining table with his ass up and Chris behind said guy thrusting in and out with a brutal pace.

He shuddered involuntarily at the mere thought of it.

Needless to say, Chris and he had a long talk after that and had decided it was better for their friendship if they found their own places.

"You're roommates with Phichit, right?" Viktor asked, continuing to walk again, gently tugging on Yuuri's arm. Yuuri nodded. "Didn't you ever walk into him having sex then?"

Yuuri snickered. "Almost. I had already unlocked the door and was at the point of opening it when he screamed from inside our dorm to not open the door."

"And you listened? Just like that?"

"It wasn't normal screaming," Yuuri explained, chuckling lightly. "It was more like a banshee screeching. I think it was the way he yelled it, the words filled with so much horror, that I just stood outside my own dorm for a few minutes. Eventually I left, only to return once Phichit texted me I could enter the dorm again. From that moment on we decided it was best to text eachother whenever we brought someone over."

Viktor laughed along with Yuuri, their laughter loud and clear in the silent night. "Wow," Viktor breathed, still chuckling. "Isn't that still a bit tiresome? I mean, you literly have to pause what you're doing and sneak a message out."

"More for Phichit than for me," Yuuri said as he shrugged. "I wasn't that much of an outgoing person, actually. Phichit had to drag me along to all the parties I've ever been to, but I rarely came home with anyone else but Phichit."

"Really?" Viktor didn't even try to hide his surprise. He knew, both from what he had seen with his own eyes and from what he had heard from Phichit, that Yuuri could be really shy sometimes and that he apparantly didn't like going to parties. But Yuuri was cute, could be considered _hot_ , and practically dripped confidence if he wanted to. Part of Viktor had expected to hear Yuuri say that he had brought many girls (or guys) home during his college years.

Yuuri nodded, biting his lower lip in one of those nervous gestures he sometimes had. "It's not like there weren't any opportunities, you know?"

 _No_ , Viktor didn't know, as he hadn't been a part of Yuuri's life during those years, but he remained silent, giving Yuuri the space to continue talking.

Yuuri looked at him expectantly, his cheeks a beautiful shade of red. "I wasn't exactly confident during my first year or two of college. That was until I joined the college band and realised I was actually good at something. Still, it was difficult for me to believe people actually wanted to spend time with me back then."

Viktor huffed, squeezing Yuuri's hand tightly. "Of _course_ people would want to spend time with you, Yuuri. You're amazing!"

"Thanks," Yuuri laughed shakily.

Viktor was glad they had reached his house by then, sensing that Yuuri had become somewhat uncomfortable with their topic. They let go of eachothers hands in silence as Viktor had to dig deep inside his back to find the keys. He made a small, victorious noise when he found them, opening the door and finally allowing them in.

The living room was cold, colder than Viktor had expected, but it made sense. He hadn't been in his house much lately and while the days were still warm and sunny, the nights were slowly getting colder. The summer had already had its peak and fall was slowly but surely creeping in.

"I'm sorry," Viktor mumbled as he moved to the panel on the side of his door, setting the room temperature to an agreable temperature of twenty one degrees. It was a warmth that most people found comfortable, without it being too warm. "I forget how cold it can get during the nights. I'll make us some tea and get some blankets. In the mean time, make yourself at home." He vagualy motioned towards the couch.

"Don't worry about it." Yuuri made a motion with his hand, as if to wave Viktors idea away. "How about you get those blankets and I'll make us tea, _ne_?" Yuuri was already in the kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets in search of some cups. A triumphant sound could be heard shortly after, indicating that he had in fact found the cups he had been looking for. Viktor couldn't help but grin at the sound.

He was currently in his spare room, rummaging through the the closet in his spare room, desperately searching for the fluffy blankets he _knew_ were there, but suddenly couldn't be found. Perhaps that wasn't so strange, as his spare room was cluttered with far too many things - things he probably didn't even need or knew he had. He ought to really clean out the room one day. He could hear the soft sound of boiling water from the kitchen and Yuuri humming softly to himself as he opened and closed cabinets and drawers.

As his hands touched the fluffy blankets, hidden somewhere behind hideous jumpers, Viktor suddenly felt an immense wave of domesticity wash through him, almost to the point where it hurt. It wasn't an unfamiliar feeling at all - it had plagued him often enough whenever there had been a rare display of such domesticity back home. He had craved those moments, more than he'd like to admit.

And yet, the sound of Yuuri humming, the kettle on the stove softly boiling water, as his rough hands clutched fluffy blankets, it _hurt_. Viktors heart was tightening painfully in his chest and he felt a sudden urge to cry.

 _Damn those thoughts and emotions_.

They weren't the same thoughts he had as when he thought about Alex and the band, but they were similar and related to something bigger that lay underneath the surface. Viktor knew he would have to face his demons one day. There were far too many issues he hadn't adressed yet, but he was too scared. 

"Viktor?" Yuuri stood in the doorway, a worrying look on his face. He had changed his contact lenses for his glasses, making him look younger than he actually was. "Are you okay?"

The sincerity in Yuuri's voice pulled at Viktors heart, but he forced the emotions down. "I'm okay. Look, I found the blankets!" He held up the blankets enthusiastically - or at least tried to.

Yuuri frowned, but decided to let whatever was on his mind slide. "You coming then? The tea is ready."

Viktor nodded, exiting the room behind Yuuri. The door closed behind him with a soft _thud_.

"I made us that Japanese tea I gave you," Yuuri said as he placed the steaming cups down on the table in front of the couch. The familiar spicy and comforting smell filled the room and Viktor inhaled deeply. "I hope that's okay?

Viktor nodded. "Of course, thank you." He smiled gratefully at the vocalist as he sat down on the couch, the fluffy blankets beside him. They had been white once, with blue snowflakes patterned randomly all over it, but the years hadn't been kind to the material, reducing the snowflakes to light blobs of blue. The fluffiness and warmed of the blankets still remained however, and they gave a certain comfort Viktor suddenly craved.

Yuuri sighed as he sat down beside him. "I could literally fall asleep like this."

Viktor hummed; He could do the same. The couch was comfortable and the fluffy material on his side begged to be touched and to be wrapped around his body. He moved a little, hiding his feet under one of the blankets, minding that he didn't accidently kick Yuuri.

They stayed like that for a bit, sipping their teas and enjoying the silence, their bare feet hidden under the blankets. The tea was nice, gliding warm and comfortable through his body and warming Viktor down to his core.

He didn't know how long they had been staying like that, their lips sealed and their minds focussed on their own world, when Yuuri started to hum softly. The sound was light and pretty, an easy and simple melody. The melody slowly changed into words, Yuuri singing ever so gentle. He sung in Japanese, his voice intimate and small, the words sounding so foreign and so beautiful to Viktor's ears.

He stood quietly, grabbing the acoustic guitar that was standing in the corner. It took him a few seconds to get the tone right, to get the _feeling_ right, but then he played the notes as if he had always played them. And Yuuri kept on singing, his voice nothing short of angelic, in tune with the soft sounds of the guitar. The chords were simple, easy to play, but it was a nice contrast with their more intricate songs. 

"It's beautiful," Viktor said softly, after they had fallen silent. "What's it about?"

Yuuri smiled at him, but the smile didn't seem to reach his eyes. "Love."

And for the second time that day, Viktor didn't understand the tugging at his heart and the screaming in his body. And he tried to understand until his eyes grew heavy and sleep overtook him, both of them laying in crooked angles on the couch, their feet touching ever so slightly.

It was one of the worst positions Viktor had ever slept in and yet he felt far more refreshed when he woke up than he had in the past weeks.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I'm sorry it took a little longer for me to update this, but this chapter just didn't wanted to flow as I wanted it to and I had a lot going on personally. Consider this chapter as more of a filler chapter, where we explore the relationship between Yuuri and Viktor a bit more. How oblivious can our Viktor be?  
> Anyhow, I know I said last time that we would tackle the first live in this chapter, but the boys had other ideas, so blame them. Next chapter, however, we will have the first live! I'm really excited for that part. Keep in mind that it might take a little bit for me to update that chapter though, as I still work a lot at the moment and have to move somewhere in the next few weeks.
> 
> Thank you all so much for the kuddos and comments! They really warm my heart <3
> 
> The song Yuuri and Viktor are jamming at the end is similar to the Hidden Track on the Ambitions album of One OK Rock. It's a beautiful acoustic song, and I recommend you all to listen to it.
> 
> Until next time!


	6. Unforgettable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More than the face you see in the crowd  
> They know my name when they scream it loud  
> I don't need much, I just want it all  
> All I wanna be is unforgettable
> 
> Unforgettable - One OK Rock 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own mistakes and imagination.

When Viktor finally opened his eyes, he wasn't sure where he was.

There were no familiar dark curtains, that had faded shapes of leaves on them. There was no nightstand beside him nor the dark wooden closet in the corner. There was no comfortable pillow underneath his head, instead a small and slightly itchy decoration cushion pretending to be a proper pillow. There were blankets however, but they were too soft, almost like velvet, and had a faint smell that reminded him of clothes that had been hanging in the closet too long, hidden away for God knows why.

He shook his head, pushing himself upright - inwardly groaning when his body protested. It took him a few seconds to realize he was sitting on the couch in his living room. At least that explained the uncomfortable crick in the neck and the heavy feeling in his limbs, but it didn't explain the blissful sleep he had had. For the past few weeks, he had slept horrible; thoughts and emotion not once dying down. Add that to the pressure of their debut album - and debut in general - and Viktor was a walking mess that slept too little and worried too much. So why then, had he slept so peacefully last night? He couldn't even recall the moment he had fallen asleep on the couch, nor could he remember having a bad dream. His sleep had been still, void of any thoughts and bad dreams.

It also didn't explain why he could hear the sound of cooking nor why the smell of baked eggs filled his nose. Curiously, Viktor got up from the couch - his limbs cracking ever so slightly - and moved to his kitchen.

Yuuri stood in his kitchen, wearing the jeans and shirt he had worn yesterday. The slightly too-big jumper was nowhere to be seen. He wore an apron around his waist (Viktor wasn't even aware he  _owned_  one) and was humming softly as he poked around with chopsticks in the pan that was on the stove. His hair was messy, still ruffled from sleep, and his clothes were in a similar state. And still, Yuuri smiled brightly when he noticed Viktor maneuvering stealthily around the counter top.

Viktor ignored the painful twinge in his heart at the sight of such domesticity.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty," Yuuri hummed, stopping the beautiful humming. It took Viktor's sleep-induced brain a fraction of a second too long to realize it had been the song they had composed last night.

 _Last night_.

Just thinking about the beautiful melody brought back the memories, the thoughts, and the emotions Viktor had felt and experienced last night. It had been such a pleasant night, a comfortable night, where Yuuri and Viktor had lazily composed one of the beautiful songs Viktor had ever heard. The two of them had been playing around with the song until Yuuri's eyes had started to drop, until his voice had been reduced to nothing but soft humming ever so often. It had reminded Viktor of the time when his mother had sung him to sleep when he had been a child, and the serene atmosphere had made him fall asleep within minutes after putting his guitar down.

"Mornin'," he answered, ruffling a hand through his hair in the hopes it would help. Viktor was far too aware he wasn't exactly a sight to behold in the morning,  _especially_  not when he had slept on his couch. Viktor didn't understand why he was suddenly so aware of his looks (and he willed the questions and thoughts down, hiding them along with all the other questions he wasn't ready to face), but he focused his attention on the food that was sizzling in the pan. "What are you making?"

" _Tamagoyaki_ ," Yuuri answered. He pushed the food to the side in the pan, adding a bit of oil, and then a mixture he kept in a bowl on the side. The mixture itself was yellow, with no strong smell, but as soon as it hit the pan flavors filled the kitchen. Viktor watched in silence as Yuuri repeated the motions over and over, creating a roll of food in the pan.

Viktor raised a confused eyebrow after a few minutes of silence. "What is  _tamagoyoki_?" He inwardly winced at the way the unfamiliar word rolled of his tongue, clumsy and probably wrong. "And more importantly, how did all this food suddenly end up in my kitchen?" Even when Viktor was home often, his cabinets weren't stuffed with food. He still disliked cooking, preferring to eat out of the house where he was sure he wouldn't burn his kitchen down.

" _Tamagoyaki_ ," Yuuri corrected, the word flowing from his tongue easily. Viktor  _almost_  envied him for that. "It's basically a Japanese omelet. Usually we eat it as a side dish or stuff it into our sushi, but I fried some vegetables to make it a more filling breakfast." He nodded to the two plates that were on the counter next to him, a portion of steaming vegetables on each plate. "And I bought it in that small convenience store nearby when I went for my morning walk. The inside of your fridge is pathetic."

"Understatement of the year."

"No shit," Yuuri laughed. He poked at the egg roll with his chopsticks, before grabbing a knife and slicing it in two pieces, putting a piece on each plate. "I don't understand  _why_ , though." He handed Viktor one of the plates, along with a steaming cup of tea.

Viktor thanked the vocalist, taking the food and tea from him and moving to his dining table. Yuuri followed him closely, sitting across from Viktor. He handed Viktor a knife and fork, his own hand expertly holding the chopsticks and poking at the steaming vegetables on his plate.

"I just hate cooking, okay?" Viktor said. "I suck balls at it, and no one ever taught me, so I just gave up after a while."

Yuuri popped a piece of egg roll in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. There were still dark circles under his eyes and his face scrunched up in discomfort whenever he moved his right shoulder too high, but otherwise the vocalist seemed well-rested and in good spirits. "What if I teach you how to cook?"

Viktor eyed the man in front of him in disbelief. "Yuuri," he said in a serious tone, "I am a lost cause, believe me."

"No one is lost cause," Yuuri tsk-ed. He skillfully picked up a few vegetables with his chopsticks, eyeing them a second before eating them. "So yes or no?"

"You are aware I once managed to set spaghetti on fire, right?"

" _Yes or no,_ Viktor?"

Viktor threw his hands up. "Okay, okay, yes. Teach me how to cook, senpai."

Yuuri glared it him in disbelief. "Did you really just call me  _senpai_?"

"Yes?" Viktor said, suddenly afraid he had said something wrong. Judging by the horror written all over Yuuri's face, he had. "Don't they always say stuff like that in anime?" he asked, trying desperately to salvage the situation.

Yuuri nodded, the horror on his face slowly turning into an amused grin. "They do."

"But I used it wrong?"

"Yes and no," Yuuri said, popping another piece of egg roll in his mouth. Viktor did the same, the once unfamiliar flavours of the Japanese cuisine bursting in his tongue. "If I would teach you how to cook, I would be your senpai in a sense and you would be my  _kōhai_. So technically you're not wrong." He put the chopsticks down and grabbed his tea, taking his time as he drank the warm liquid. "However, since I am younger than you, it feels weird to be called senpai."

"Interesting," Viktor hummed. He wasn't really into anime that much - he didn't exactly have the time to binge on tv series - but he had seen the term  _senpai_  often enough on the internet.

They talked a bit more about the different relations that were common in Japan, with Yuuri explaining how they were established and what they meant. At one point, Viktor stood to grab their plates so he could wash them, but they kept on talking. Yuuri had moved to the couch and busied himself with folding the fluffy blankets, while Viktor did the dishes. They talked about many things, but mostly about their respective homes. It was interesting to talk about the similarities and differences.

Yuuri eventually got up from the couch, the blankets folded neatly on the small table, and moved to the kitchen. He grabbed a kitchen towel and helped Viktor drying the dishes. "So what do you miss most about home?" Yuuri asked, inspecting the glass he was drying. "Besides the borscht, of course."

Viktor threw him a look, but chuckled anyway. He would surely be teased more often about his short-lived obsession with that particular dish. "I think," he said as he wiped the stove clean, "that I miss the cold weather the most."

It was an answer Yuuri didn't seem to expect, surprise written all over his delicate features, his eyes looking humongous due to the surprise and his glasses magnifying effect. "How can you miss cold weather?"

Viktor shrugged, drying his hands on the towel that hung on the side of the countertop. "It can be horrendous, I admit, but it is also amazing in its own way." He thought back on the times he had awoken to a fresh layer of snow outside of his window, shining beautiful in the sunlight that peeked through the snowstorms. "And as much as I enjoy warm weather, I am just not built for it."

Yuuri laughed, that particular laugh that had Viktor's insides squirming for no particular reason. "You can be so strange sometimes," he stated, but a smile was tugging at the corners of his lips.

"One of the many things that make me a very charming man."

Yuuri laughed even harder at that. "Sure,  _darling_ ," he teased, "whatever you say."

And Viktor didn't understand why his heart fluttered at the use of such a stupid endearment, but he brushed it off, filing it away next to all the other things he had yet to understand.

They got ready soon after that, taking turns in the shower. Viktor took his time under the hot water, allowing the heat to soothe his muscles and aching limbs. He really ought to mind where he fell asleep. His body didn't seem to like sleeping on a couch two nights in a row that much.

As he washed his hair, he breathed in deeply. The scent was the same as it always was, smelling just the tiniest bit of flowers. It reminded him of home during the coldest winters, when everything was withering away under the freezing temperatures. It may sound depressing, but he had actually liked those days, enjoying how silent and crisp the world looked. Those days reminded him of new beginnings, as all the trees and plants would grow again in spring. They would blossom again, no matter how hard the harsh weather knocked them down.

Viktor had always wanted to be like that - to be able to bounce back like that. He had wanted to be able to blossom after every failure, to get out of situations with his head high.

But he never did that, did he?

He tiptoed around his failures, either by running away or pretending everything was fine, but he never - not once - had gotten out of a situation with his head high. He had run away when the situation with his parents had gotten out of hand, not ready to confront them with his needs and feelings. He had pretended everything was fine when Yakov told him for the umpteenth time their band was running out of time. For some reason, luck had always stayed on his side, allowing him to run away and to hide his feelings from the world. It had always been on his side, saving him when time was running out, giving him the space he needed to breathe, the seconds he needed to survive.

But his luck was drying up.

Viktor knew that. His entire being was consciously aware of the unfamiliar feeling that slowly creeped into his body, whispering softly to him at night. He had grasped onto luck as long as he had been able to, but luck wasn't his to keep. Soon he wouldn't be able to keep running, to bottle all the feelings inside, hidden away in the darkest place of his being. The wall was cracking, slowly crumbling, shining small beams of light on his fears.

_But why?_

It was a question that plagued him - but was still unanswered. For years, he had been able to hide his feelings, learning how to mask the heart he wore on his sleeves. Yakov had been a great help in that aspect, guiding and teaching him ever so subtly. Viktor hid himself behind arrogance, behind nonchalant naivity, and behind bright heart-shaped smiles on his face. He had hidden it all so much that he had almost started to believe it himself. But he was a fool for believing he would be able to convince himself. Hidden away didn't mean something was  _gone_. It meant something was there, lurking in the shadows, waiting patiently, only to come out at a time when you least expected it.

Which brought him back to his original question.  _Why?_ Viktor refused to believe that their former vocalist could be the cause of the internal crisis he had been having the past few weeks. He had been naive for thinking Alex wouldn't leave them, but the departure hadn't been that big of a shock that it made him rethink all his life choices. Alex ditching them was undeniably a part of the mess that was currently spinning in his head, but it couldn't be the cause of everything he felt. It wasn't what caused the painful jabs in his heart, what tugged at his soul until it hurt.

But no matter how much Viktor thought about it, an answer never came to him. He didn't understand why his luck was drying up, but he feared for the consequences. What would happen once he wouldn't be able to hide his feelings anymore? He already wasn't able to get out of situations with his head high, like he wanted to. What if his luck of tiptoeing around all the things he feared dried up?

Viktor abruptly turned off the water, suddenly frustrated with himself. He was making himself go insane. They were at the point of their debut, for Christ's sake! Why was he blabbering about his luck drying up or getting out of stupid situations with his head high?

 _I'm just tired_ , he reasoned with himself,  _so tired_.

But he knew, deep inside, that it was more than that - that it went deeper than that.

Yuuri didn't comment on the frustrated frown that resided on Viktors face when Viktor walked back into the living room, instead offering a warm and comforting smile. Viktor appreciated that, allowing himself to cling to the warmth Yuuri gave, distracting himself with talking about their music.

"I got a text from Chris while you were in the shower," Yuuri said as they hoisted Viktors guitars in the car. "He was on his way to the studio and asked if he had to pick us up." 

Viktor stepped inside his car, Yuuri joining him on the passengers side. "What did you tell him?" 

"That he could pick up Phichit if he wanted to, but that you and I would go on our own. I explained that I had crashed here in the end." 

Viktor nodded, driving off the the studio. He turned on the radio and focused his attention on the road in front of him.

They were silent mostly, with Yuuri humming or singing along softly with songs that came from the crackling radio. Whenever Viktor would glance to his side, Yuuri would be there, offering him one of those warm and welcome smiles.

And Viktor ignored the fluttering, ignored the aching - ignored all the thoughts that screamed in his head.

~

The days flew by again, filled with the last recordings, last revisions, and meetings with Yakov and Greg concerning the look and title of the album. Viktor felt as if there weren't enough hours in a day. On top of that, he barely slept, his sleep disrupted by all the thoughts and emotions he didn't understand. When he was in the studio, Yuuri was there most of the time, smiling at him or squeezing his shoulder in a comforting way, calming Viktor down. But the moment Viktor was alone, the thoughts would return and his heart would ache - but for what, he didn't know. It was why Viktor stayed in the studio for long and tiring hours, just so he wouldn't be alone. Most of the times Yuuri would stay by his side, but occasionally it would be Chris or Phichit. They didn't speak of the emotions or thoughts, but simply played or talked together until they fell asleep from exhaustion. On the rare occasion it seemed Viktor would be alone, Yuuri would come home with him, sleeping on the couch and cooking them breakfast in the morning. It was a silent agreement neither of them really spoke about, instead just letting it happen.  

There was no time, however, for Viktor to think about his depressive state of mind tonight.

Tonight would be their first ever live and Viktor was  _scared_.

The four of them had been dropped off at the venue earlier that evening. Their instruments had already been brought in the morning in order for the crew at the venue to get everything ready on time. It wasn't that big of a live house, with the capacity of around five hundred people. The tickets hadn't even been sold out (not that Viktor had expected they would), but that didn't matter. What mattered most, was that they were finally able to perform together.

He was pacing around the dressing room they had been given, nerves filling his veins. The room itself was small and bare. The walls were white, the floor a cold type of concrete, but Viktor didn't mind. The bareness allowed his mind some comfort, numbing his senses in a way. There were a few chairs scattered around the room, a small table that had seen better days, and an old rack for clothing. One wall was filled with floor-to-ceiling mirrors, the glass dirty from the far too many fingerprints that had touched it. Viktor didn't mind the shabbiness of it all - they had seen far worse. Besides, the podium itself looked good enough and the boxes had a rather decent sound, if their earlier soundcheck was anything to go by.

The soundcheck had been hectic and full of mistakes, but it had been fun nonetheless. Their nerves had been evident, the four of them giggling and joking around more often than not, but Yakov had let them be. It had been a surprise when they heard that their manager would attend their first live with Yuuri, and Viktor wasn't exactly sure whether he liked it or not. Yakov could help them out immensely, his years of expertise a welcoming comfort, but he could also break their confidence with one quirk of his eyebrow. 

Their stoic manager was currently speaking in hushed tones to a few guys from the crew. They seemed to talk about some last-minute revisions and minor issues they needed to straighten out before the performance would start. The atmosphere in the room grew more intense with each passing minute. Phichit sat in a chair in the corner, his eyes closed, practicing the rhythms with his drumsticks on his upper legs. Chris was tuning his base, strumming some easier chords. It was how they usually had prepared for lives and it was nice to see they still did the same now. 

Viktor sat down with a sigh, grabbing his guitar and absentmindedly playing random melodies. His leg was bobbing up and down nervously, no matter how much he willed it to stop twitching like that. It had been a long time since he had felt this nervous, but there hadn't been this much at stake before. This would be their proper debut, their first live after weeks of not performing. Viktor had missed it, had missed the thrill and excitement, but he hadn't missed the nerves. They had performed often enough with Alex that Viktor had quickly learned to control his nerves, but weeks without performing had his nerves raising to critical levels again.

He ought to thank Yakov one day, if Viktor was honest. Yakov was your best shot at an amazing career in the music industry, but you had to work hard for it yourself. Yakov would help his talents, aiding them and guiding them in the brutal industry, but he also expected them to work hard and earn their name. Part of this was reflected in the many lives and tours he planned for his talents. Viktor had found it annoying, if he was honest, especially in the beginning, because it was tiring and taxing on their bodies and it felt humiliating to play for such small crowds.

But each coin has another side.

The more they played, the better it went, with their bodies slowly getting used to the playing so often, their excruciating nerves fading to anxious excitement. The crowds grew too, slowly but surely, and it had been addicting.

Viktor tried to think of those feelings, willing for the umpteenth time for his leg to calm the fuck down. Phichit and Chris seemed more nervous as well, their hands twitching and trembling slightly, their laughs high and somewhat forced. The unimpressed looks Yakov threw their way every now and then didn't help either.

The only one that didn't seem to be as affected by everything as them, was Yuuri. Yuuri sat on the floor in front of one of the mirrors, his legs crossed, taking his time with an eyeliner in his hand. He was humming softly -  _of course he was_  - and seemed to be calm and collected. He still wore the clothes he had worn this morning (black, oversized, and comfortable),

It was Phichit that cracked first, breaking the very delicate silence that had enveloped them.

He stood abruptly, the sticks tightly clenched in his left hand. "Guys, I'm  _terrified_ ," he exclaimed, but it came out as more of a harsh whisper.

Yuuri didn't even flinch, but simply stared at his reflection in the mirror. "Aren't we all?" He moved back in with the eyeliner, and Viktor watched - mesmerized - as his hand steadily drew a line.

"How should I know?" Phichit slumped down in the seat that stood beside Yuuri, eyeing the handiwork of their vocalist. "If you're so terrified, how come you just drew the perfect line?" 

"Because real rockstars do their own eyeliner," Yuuri said without missing a beat. 

Chris snorted, loud and undignified. "Sure, darling. But I have to agree with our little drummer here-" 

" _I'm not little!_ " 

"- and wonder how you're still so calm." 

Yuuri moved back a little, looking at his face from different angles. "Because I hide it behind a beautiful facade of attitude." He stood at that and walked to the rack of clothing. He grabbed a few items and disappeared into the dressing room. Different outfits had been placed on the rack by an assistant Yakov had brought along. Viktor hadn't understood why - their own clothes were good enough, right? He had always preferred to perform in his jeans and shirt and didn't understand the need for an entirely different wardrobe. 

That changed, however, once he saw Yuuri in the clothes he had picked off the rack. Tight black jeans, ripped on the knees and thighs, and a black shirt with a rather deep v-shaped neckline clung to his body, the outfit pimped with silver chains on the jeans.

_What in the world...?_

His throat went dry all of a sudden and he let his eyes roam freely and shamelessly over Yuuri's body. He was vaguely aware of the whistling from Chris and Phichit behind him. Yuuri looked stunning, his dark eyes accentuated by the makeup, his curves hugged by the tight clothing. It looked insanely hot, but it still resembled a rock attitude. Or it could be because of the way Yuuri carried himself, full of that now familiar confidence, his eyes dark and alluring, his body posture tall and proud – even if he wasn’t that tall in reality.

And then Yuuri smirked, and Viktor could feel his heart tightening.

"Oh my  _god_ ," Phichit exclaimed, bouncing up from the chair. "I am getting some K-pop vibes here. Tell me there are outfits like that for us too!" He ducked towards the rack, enthusiastically searching through the items. Viktor wasn’t all that familiar with the K-pop industry, but it made sense that Phichit was since the younger was extremely interested in the Asian music industry.

"Of course there are," Yuuri laughed, handing Phichit pieces of clothing. 

Phichit squealed, one of those high-pitched ones, before retreating into the dressing room. 

"That boy is  _always_  excited when he sees fancy clothing, is he not?" Chris laughed, putting his guitar to the side and standing up himself. He went through the rack of clothing as well, albeit a lot less enthusiastically compared to their drummer. A hum of approval left his lips once he found his own clothes – also all black – before shamelessly starting to undress himself, much to the horror of Yuuri.

Viktor snorted, amused by his best friend. “I don’t know who’s more excited,” he said with a grin on his face, “Phichit when he sees fancy clothing or Chris when he gets to undress in front of an audience.”

Yuuri made a strangled sound, clasping a hand over his mouth. “It may be a tie.”

Viktor hummed. “Such a politicly correct answer.”

“Well _duh,_ ” Yuuri said, rolling his eyes as if it was that obvious. “I don’t want to deal with the wrath of either of them.” He grabbed his eyeliner again and moved towards Viktor. "May I?" he asked softly, and Viktor could only nod. "Close your eyes then," Yuuri breathed and Viktor obeyed, closing his eyes and putting his trust in Yuuri. 

The vocalist was gentle, caring almost, as he softly lifted Viktors chin and applied the eyeliner. It felt strange, a bit on the cool side, but Viktor stayed obedient and kept his eyes closed as he listened to Yuuri and Chris bickering about their drummer. It was no secret that Phichit loved outrageous outfits, wearing bold prints and colours that clashed together with pride. And he pulled it off somehow, rocking every outfit he wore. He was the most fashionable out of the four of them and he knew it.

"You may look now," Yuuri said, gently directing Viktors head to the mirrors behind them.

The face staring back at him seemed so familiar and so strange at the same time. His bright eyes seemed brighter, more intense - mysterious almost. The liner was near perfectly applied, without being too much. Viktor smiled brightly at Yuuri, thanking him earnestly.

Yuuri smiled at him warmly. "No worries, now go change, we have to rock soon." 

~

Viktor tugged nervously at the shirt that clung to his body. Like the others, he also wore a black outfit, though his own was a bit more subtle when it came to the accessories. There were only two silver chains hanging from one side of his ripped jeans and his shirt didn't have such a deep neckline, but it still felt strange and uncomfortable. The clothes were tight and warm and together with the makeup applied by Yuuri, Viktor felt like a completely different person. Chris and Phichit didn't seem to mind the clothing, relishing in the way it bordered between styles, giving both rock-vibes as well as K-pop vibes - according to Phichit at least. Chris his outfit was also a bit more subdued, but Phichit had gone all out, adding stuff last minute himself. The boy claimed he was a rockstar but dressed as a goddamn fairy sometimes.

He was warm and sweaty and the whistling and yelling that sounded from just behind the curtains didn't help his nerves at all. Yakov had only given them a simple "Don't fuck up, boys," before moving back into the shadows, and it made Viktor far too aware of the situation. This was their debuting show, their very first show as History Maker with Yuuri as their vocalist. They had to do right, in order to get their name out there, to go on that promised tour - to properly debut.

And they would do right, for god's sake.

Viktor scolded himself inwardly for allowing his nerves to get the better of him. Abruptly, he stuck out his hand, inviting the others to do the same. "We will rock this shit," he said bluntly, not caring at all that Yakov could hear them and would have his head later for being so insensitive with his choice of words. "Let's do this, okay?" 

A chorused " _Yes!_ " could be heard, before the four of them made the most silly sounds in order to prep themselves for the live. 

"You're up in five seconds," Stacy, one of the crew members from the live house, told them, looking sternly at Phichit.

And true to her words,  _Introduction_ started to play through the speakers, the sound loud and clear. Phichit breathed in and out visibly, drumsticks in his trembling hands, before shaking it off somehow and walking through the curtains with a blank face, his back straight and his chin high. Cheers erupted from the room from the crowd they could hear, but not yet see. Chris went soon after, his nerves hidden behind a smile that could only be described as flirtatious.

Viktor threw one last look at Yuuri, who seemed to be the epitome of confidence, seeking something, _anything_ , to hold on to – to get his nerves in check.

“Go get ‘m, _Vitya_ ,” Yuuri said, but it happened so soon that Viktor thought he had heard in wrong. No one besides his own parents and Yakov had ever called him Vitya, nor would any other person understand the meaning behind it. Not even Chris had called him that, comprehending he wasn’t the one who should call Viktor that. But Yuuri just had, with that warm and addicting smile, while his eyes looked at him with so much intensity, challenging almost.

He almost tripped over his feet as Stacy pushed him rather harshly, saying something about it being his turn to get on stage. For a fraction of a second it seemed silent, the room too bright for his senses to focus, but then everything came crashing down at once.

The crowd was deafening.

It wasn't sold out, but it was still busy, and people screamed their name as if they had known them their whole lives. Viktor couldn't help the grin that formed on his face, nor the excitement that filled his veins. All nerves were gone, replaced by the adrenaline that rushed through his body. No matter how big or small the crowd was, them screaming their names, moving their heads along in appreciation of their music was enough to get him pumped for the performance.

And the crowd went wild once Yuuri walked in, screaming and yelling as Yuuri kept a straight face, walking towards his place in the middle, before acknowledging the crowd - sending them a smile that made them go crazy.

They started straight away with Eros, pouring their heart and soul into the riffs and chords, as Yuuri slayed the vocals.

Viktor tried to divert his attention between their audience and the guitar in his hand, but his eyes kept going back to Yuuri, who was dancing and jumping around, interacting with the crowd and the three of them, all the while singing like there was no tomorrow.

They kept on playing like that, Yuuri taking the lead and talking to the public in between songs. The crowd seemed to like it, screaming and yelling, clapping and whistling in approval.

It was addicting, the way the crowd enjoyed their performance, the way Yuuri belted out notes they hadn’t practiced. His shirt stuck to his sweat-covered back, his hair probably a mess, but Viktor hadn’t felt this alive in ages. His entire body was filled with adrenaline, ready to keep on going for hours and hours, even playing the complicated riff of _Monster_ with ease all of a sudden. The longer they played, the more comfortable they got, messing around on stage with each other, laughing it off whenever someone messed up – because that also happened. It wasn’t all flowers and butterflies, but the crowd didn’t seem to mind, laughing along whenever one of them made a mistake. They would talk about it later, of course, looking back on the show so they could make sure they wouldn’t make the same mistakes again. But for now it was all fine – more than fine, actually.

For now, it was simply amazing.

~

“ _Fuck_ ,” Viktor said, his voice hoarse from providing the backing vocals all night.

“Not exactly what I wanted to say, but the same nonetheless,” Chris said, slumping down on the nearest chair he could find.

Viktor sat down beside him, not in the mood to say much more. They had just had their first live and it had been better than any of the lives they had ever done before. Yuuri had been amazing, singing with so much passion and firing up the crowd as if they were playing in front of a sold-out stadium.

“Well done, boys,” Yakov said as he entered the room. “I was worried at first that you wouldn’t take it serious, but you earned yourselves that tour. Go home, get rest, we’ll talk tomorrow. I expect you all in my office by ten.”

“Yes boss,” Viktor mumbled, suddenly too tired to say much more. He was excited to hear the news they would soon have an actual tour, but his mind and body were drained from the excessive amounts of adrenaline he had experienced all night.

He wasn’t the only one, he realized, as he looked at his team mates. Yakov had left the room soon after his short speech, together with the few remaining members of the crew. It was just the four of them now, their bodies sticky with sweat, their makeup smudged and their hair messy. Phichit looked as if he could fall asleep any second now, and even Chris looked drained to the core.

Almost automatically, Viktor looked at their vocalist. Yuuri sat in a chair, his hair messy and his eyeliner smudged, but a tired smile was on his lips.

“What are you smiling at?” Viktor asked, scrunching his face when he noticed how tired his voice sounded.

“I just uploaded that picture I took with the audience at the end of our live on my Insta.” He motioned towards the phone in his hand. “The likes and comments are already flooding in.”

That piqued Viktors interest. “Are the comments a bit… okay?” He still remembered the nasty comments they had gotten when Alex had still ben their vocalist and he expected there would still be nasty comments now.

“They are all extremely positive,” Yuuri said with a smile. “Maybe one or two are mean, but it’s mostly positive.”

“Good.”

They talked little after that, getting back into their own clothing. Their instruments would be brought back to the studio by the crew, so they grabbed their backs and got into the taxi Yakov had ordered for them. Viktor was thankful for that, as he was far too tired to drive back home and he was sure the others were just as tired.

The ride wasn’t that long, but both Chris and Phichit managed to fall asleep anyway.

Viktor stared out the window of the backseat when Yuuri gently poked his arm. Surprised, he turned his head, looking at Yuuri in confusion.

“I just wanted to ask whether it was okay that I called you Vitya earlier,” Yuuri whispered, keeping his voice low so he wouldn’t wake Chris and Phichit. “I read a bit about Russia and their use of diminutive names, but it seemed like you really needed to hear something like that.”

Viktor looked at Yuuri, his eyes roaming over the pretty face without a care in the world. His brain was tired, numb almost from the tiring day, and he couldn’t completely grasp the meaning behind Yuuri’s word. The words themselves were honest and straightforward, but he felt as if there was deeper meaning he failed to grasp. “It’s fine, Yuuri,” he said after a little bit, smiling tiredly. “You may call me Vitya whenever you like.”

For some reason that Viktors dead brain couldn’t grasp, Yuuri blushed. A dark shade tinted his cheeks and the vocalist actually bit his bottom lip in that nervous gesture he tended to have every now and then. “Okay,” he whispered, his voice suddenly shy and almost breakable. And then, so soft it was almost unintelligible: “Thank you, Vitya, for everything.”

Yuuri fell asleep shortly after that, his head on Viktors shoulder, sleeping soundly, leaving Viktor alone with his thoughts once more.

But Viktor was too tired, too drained to reflect on _anything_. So he just looked out of the window, watching in silence as the dark world outside flew by.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Hides in a corner*
> 
> This took me so long to finish. I had wanted their first live to be amazing and to rock, but it was so difficult to write. I hope you guys still enjoy this chapter though, and aren't too disappointed.
> 
> As you may have noticed, I am updating a lot slower these days. It's because I am busy with work, moving to another city and I will start my Master's degree in September. I will still try to update often, but bare with me!
> 
> Until then, hope you enjoy these absolute dorks and see you next level!


	7. Lost in tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Perfect timing  
>  It could be the start of anything  
> It's our dream we're writing  
> Paint the town red  
> We'll do what we want  
> It's our life  
> It should be exciting_
> 
> Lost in tonight - One OK Rock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing but my mistakes and imagination.

Viktor's body  _ached_. 

His limbs felt uncomfortably heavy, his fingers throbbing almost painfully. Even the heaviest workout hadn't made him feel so worn out like  _this_. And with 'this', he meant like someone had ran him over with a car, straightened him out, and then run him over again, but with a truck instead. 

But despite the rather uncomfortable pain in his body, a far too happy smile was plastered across his face.

Last night had been amazing, both the perfect ending of a shitty period and the best beginning for a new era. Years down the road - assuming they would make it that far - they would remember last night as their debuting night. Viktor knew beforehand that Chris and Phichit would be amazing - he had played shows with them often enough to just know. Viktor hadn't known, however, what Yuuri would be like. Sure, he had seen Yuuri perform once, in that shabby cafe Phichit had dragged them to all those weeks ago, but he hadn't seen Yuuri perform with History Maker in front of a crowd that had come specifically to see  _them_.

He had been scared, if he was honest. Scared that the confident Yuuri he had seen with the college band and during their rehearsals would be gone all of sudden. What if everything had been too much for their vocalist, who tended to switch between his confident and anxious moods like it was nothing? What if one of those nervous moments happened during their live performance? Questions that had plagued him, but he had been too much of a coward to ask Yuuri. While they were great friends by now, there were still parts of his life that Yuuri tended to keep hidden from them. And Viktor hadn't felt the need to pry - Yuuri would come whenever he was ready. Of course he was curious, but he was  _always_  curious when it came to Yuuri. The younger could be so clear sometimes, as if he was the most transparent person on earth. But most of the times Yuuri was a mystery, hidden behind years and years of carefully build up walls. It frustrated Viktor sometimes. He didn't fully understand why, but there was something about Yuuri that drew him in. He wanted to know how Yuuri's intricate mind worked - how Yuuri ticked.

Nonetheless, he should have given their vocalist a bit more credit. Yuuri had been nothing short of amazing last night, confidence practically dripping out of every pore the entire show. He had sung like his life had depended on it, giving it even more than he had given during their best rehearsals. It had been thrilling to see how well they actually worked together. Yuuri's confidence and energy on stage had been addicting, allowing the others to get pumped up even more. 

Viktor rolled over, groaning loudly when his body protested. Oh yes, he had definitely given it his all last night.

Even Yakov had approved.

The grin on his face grew even bigger - if that was possible. Yakov had approved indeed, had he not? The tour would come, meaning they would have a chance to break through. An album was amazing, yes, but it were the tours that would give them the recognition they needed. Albums were easily made these days, with the technology every person with a bit of money could buy and Youtube readily available to upload everything. Touring was a bit more complicated than that. First of all, you needed a good manager that knew the right people for the right venues, unless you wanted to stay stuck at the same grubby cafe your entire music career. And that was where Yakov came into the picture. Yakov  _knew_  people and many people practically worshipped the grouchy manager. 

With a heavy sigh Viktor rolled over again and sat up. Yakov had told them to meet him at ten and unless he made it there in time, there would be no tour at all. Yakov adhered very few rules, compared to other managers, but being on time was one of his most important rules. It was inexcusable to be late.

Viktor grabbed his phone to check the time. He had a little over an hour to get ready, more than enough to take a much-needed shower and drink a hot cup of coffee. He was a little bit surprised to see he had a message from Yuuri. They didn't text often, besides sending each other pictures of adorable puppies, preferring calling over texting. It was so much easier and quicker and most of the times they were too tired to text what they wanted or needed. Curiously, Viktor unlocked his phone to reveal the message.

**From: Yuuri [07:38]**

_Morning sleepyhead! You awake yet?_

Viktor chuckled. Of course Yuuri was awake early. While Yuuri seemed to enjoy sleeping in, he seemed to prefer getting up early even more. It astounded Viktor sometimes, how cheerful and bright Yuuri could be at such early hours.

 

**From: Viktor [08:21]**

_I am now. Why were you up so early anyway?_

**From: Yuuri [08:21]**

_Internal body clock decided to be annoying._

_Anyway, Phichit went to the studio already. Said he had promised to meet up with Seung-Gil._

_Chris will go to the studio by himself as well, as he has plans after our meeting with Yakov._

_Want me to pick you up?_

**From: Viktor [08:22]**

_you wound me that you even have to ask_

**From: Yuuri [08:22]**

_See you in an hour then. You better be ready!_

**From: Viktor [08:22]**

_or what?_

**From: Yuuri [08:23]**

_Or no more pictures of adorable puppies I meet during my morning walk for you._

**From: Viktor [08:23]**

_You soulless monster!!_

_how will i survive without those pictures?_

_they are the highlight of my day_

_please keep sending them_

_i promise i'll be on time_

_Yuuri?_

_Yuuriiiii?_

_Pretty please?_

**From: Yuuri [08:25]**

_Jeez, if I'd known you would get this annoying I would have never threatened with it._

_Ugh fine! I'll keep sending those pictures._

_9:30 sharp, Vitya. Be on time._

Viktor smiled like a mad man at his phone.  _Vitya_. Yuuri called him  _Vitya_. He still didn't understand why Yuuri wanted to call him by that particular diminutive of his name nor did he understand why he had been okay with Yuuri calling him by that name. If Chris had asked, Viktor would have laughed. It would have been weird to hear the name out of Chris's mouth, their relationship not intimate enough use those names with each other.

But why didn't it feel weird with Yuuri then? Yuuri calling him  _Vitya_  had been the push he had needed last night, and it had given him chills later in the taxi. It still tugged somewhere at his heart with an unfamiliar feeling.

 _Oh_.

He was doing it again. Dwelling on those annoying feelings and thoughts he didn't understand and at this point didn't even want to understand. It was too complicated, too annoying to deal with at this moment. They were debuting, for God's sake, he had better things to do than dwell on silly things such as  _feelings_.

He hoisted himself out of bed and into his bathroom. The shower was hot and comfortable, soothing his aching body. He sincerely hoped he would get used to it in the future. Perhaps he and Chris ought to work out more, to get their stamina up even more. 

After taking his sweet time in the shower, Viktor got ready. He quickly texted Yuuri asking if he also wanted a coffee to go, to which the vocalist answered with a  _Yes, please_. It was funny, how Yuuri was so punctual with his texts. Where Viktor enjoyed the usage of emoticons and gifs, and lacked the proper writing skills, Yuuri was almost perfect in his writing. The day Yuuri would use an emoticon would probably never come. 

Viktor was sipping on his cup of coffee - the travel mugs filled with hot coffee already standing next to him - and was scrolling through his Instagram when the doorbell rang. He got up immediately, closing his Instagram and pocketing his phone in one smooth movement. 

He couldn't help the smile that appeared on his face when he opened the door. "Hi," he breathed, taking the liberty to look at Yuuri. The younger was wearing his comfortable clothing again, that pair of faded jeans he seemed to love and a black hoodie with a white image on the front. He wasn't wearing his glasses, probably wearing his contact lenses instead, but his hair fell down, slightly wavy at the ends.

Yuuri smiled. "Hi. You ready?"

Viktor nodded. "Let me just grab our coffees and my coat." He moved back into his house, grabbing the travel mugs and handing one of them to Yuuri. He threw his coat over his arm and closed the door behind him, following Yuuri swiftly to the car and sitting in the passenger seat.

"I'm amazed you were actually ready on time," Yuuri chuckled as he started the car. The engine roared to life, growling almost. The radio also started crackling, but Yuuri turned the volume down.

Viktor huffed. "Of course I am on time," he said, as if it was the most normal thing for him to be on time in the morning (newsflash: it usually wasn't). "You threatened to stop sending pictures of adorable puppies. You gave me no other choice than to be on time." 

Yuuri snorted, the sound loud and undignified. "Glad to know you value pictures of puppies over a meeting with Yakov."

"Who doesn't?" Viktor faked indifference.

Yuuri threw him a look, but a smirk tugged at the corners of his lips. "Luckily you have me then. At least someone makes sure you drag your ass out of bed on time." 

Viktor placed a hand on his heart. "Oh Yuuri," he mused, "what would I do without you?"

"Well, you  _wouldn't_  be having a meeting with your manager for a tour, because without me you wouldn't have a vocalist," Yuuri said, not missing a beat.

" _Savage_ ," Viktor gasped.

Yuuri tutted. "I can't be savage when I'm telling the truth."

"Wow, if I'd known you'd be this cruel to my poor heart I wouldn't have stalked you."

"So you  _finally_  admit you were stalking me?" Yuuri looked at him triumphantly. 

"No?" Viktor tried, but Yuuri bursted out laughing. 

"Sure," he said, once his laughter had been reduced to random giggles, "believe whatever you will, Vitya." 

Viktor wanted to answer something smart and witty, he really did, but the way Yuuri said his name, made Viktor go silent all of a sudden. It were those strange feelings again, tugging at his heart and poking at his mind. Viktor wanted to tell those feelings to kindly fuck off, because he didn't know what they wanted from him. All he knew was that a soft voice, hidden behind the screaming of all the obnoxious thoughts, told him that he  _liked_  the way Yuuri said his name - and he wanted to hear it more often. He wanted to hear what it sounded like when Yuuri would be serious, or when he'd be looking for comfort because he was said, or when Yuuri would be moaning undern-

 _Hold the fuck up_.

Viktor's mind came to a screeching halt and sudden panic raced through his body. Was his mind really implying that Viktor wanted to hear Yuuri  _moan_  his name? Was his mind that much of traitor? Sure, Yuuri was a handsome guy and Viktor was rather deprived of some action in the bedroom, but that didn't mean he actually  _wanted_  to hear Yuuri moan his name as if they were in some kind of intimate relationship.

"You okay there?" Yuuri pulled him out of his idiotic thoughts, his face scrunched up in a worried frown. "You know I was just messing with you, right?" he continued, a bit nervously, when Viktor stayed silent after his first question. He was biting on his bottom lip in one of those nervous habits he had and Viktor felt his eyes move to those lips - full and slightly wet and kissable.

Viktor wanted to smack himself, preferably hard enough for the insane sudden thoughts to get out of his head. "I'm fine," he grumbled instead, shaking his head as if he wanted to shake the thoughts away. "Sorry," he apologised, trying to smile. "I suppose I got a bit lost in thoughts."

Yuuri hummed in understanding, finally releasing his - now slightly swollen - bottom lip from the constant gnawing. "It's okay, we all have that sometimes. Do you want to talk about it?" He glanced at Viktor, his eyes full of honesty and openness.

Viktor swallowed, willing the lump in his throat to go away, and shook his head. "It's nothing important. Just stupid thoughts that keep popping up."

Yuuri placed his hand on Viktors leg and squeezed gently. Viktor supposed it was meant as a comfortable gesture, but his body didn't respond accordingly - at all. His breath hitched in his throat and his body tensed immediately. Yuuri squeezed again, softer this time, before releasing him and using his hand to shift gear. "If you say so," Yuuri said, keeping his eyes on the road. "But know that if you ever need it, I'm here for you, okay?"

"Okay," Viktor muttered as he averted his gaze. He could feel the glances Yuuri threw his way, but he kept looking at the world outside. He hadn't meant for the conversation to turn so serious and depressing, but there was nothing he could change about it now. 

Yuuri turned the volume up the radio up again, singing along with the song that was currently playing. It was a pop song, from one a relatively new band that was under Yakov's wing. Viktor didn't know them personally, but he knew they had been building their repertoire for the past four years, having to deal with setback after setback. Would it be the same for them? Part of him wanted to be optimistic and say no. They were doing a great job, and Yakov was pushing boundaries to make everything happen in such a short period of time. But what if that would be their downfall? Viktor didn't wanted to think so pessimistic, but a part of him wondered when they would encounter the setbacks and how much they would be affected by them. It was bound to happen, he just didn't know  _when_  they would happen. Perhaps that was the risk of their line of work; no one knew when setbacks would happen.

"Last night was amazing, by the way," Yuuri spoke after the song had ended. He grinned and turned the volume of the radio lower again. 

Viktor couldn't help the grin from spreading on his face as well. "Definitely. Thank you, really, for joining us."

"No, no," Yuuri laughed, "thank  _you_  for dragging my reluctant ass to that practice session. The past few weeks have been brutal, but I wouldn't want it any other way." The grin on his face morphed into a sincere smile. "Writing the songs, recording them, and playing them live... I can't even fully comprehend myself how much it means to me. When I was younger, I never knew what I wanted to be or what I wanted to do. But I think I do now."

"And what do you want to be?" Viktor asked.

"The vocalist of History Maker, part of the band, one of the writers of our songs. I want to be famous. I want to make music. I want to play in front of those sold out stadiums we talked about." He parked the car in front of Feltman's building, shutting down the engine. He twisted his upper body so he could face Viktor properly. "But most importantly, I want to be standing by your side when we get there. And I want Chris and Phichit to be there as well. You have given me more than I have ever asked for. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart."

A lump formed in Viktor's throat again, but for an entirely different reason this time. "Yuuri...," he murmured, unsure of what to say. 

As it turned out, he didn't have to say anything. Yuuri moved first, unbuckling his seatbelt and throwing his arms around Viktors neck in a crushing hug. Viktor blinked, surprised by the sudden action, but he snuck his arms around Yuuri's waist, holding tight. He breathed in, the muscular and husky smell that belonged to Yuuri strong but welcome nonetheless. The smell was familiar by now, as it clung to Yuuri’s body and clothes, and Viktor had been close enough far too many times to know the smell belonged to Yuuri. It was a comforting smell, reminding him of good times, of that beautiful laughter of Yuuri, and of home.

Viktor breathed in again, deeply, while tightening his hold around Yuuri.

Yuuri held on tight as well, whispering another soft _thank you_ , before releasing his grip. Viktor – _reluctantly_ – let go as well, sitting back and looking at the vocalist.

“Let’s go,” Yuuri murmured, an unreadable look on his face. “The meeting starts in a few minutes.”

Oh, right, the meeting. Viktor nodded and got out of the car, hoisting his bag over his shoulder and grabbing his coffee. The drink was lukewarm by now, but he didn’t mind, taking small sips as they walked the short distance from the parking lot to the building. The weather was gloomy again: the wind cold and harsh, and dark clouds threatening the sky.

“You think it’s going to rain today?” Viktor asked conversationally. There was something strange lingering between them and he didn’t like it. His bond with Yuuri had always been comfortable and easy-going and he didn’t like the sudden awkwardness. It probably wasn’t noticeable to outsiders, the change being just subtle enough, but Viktor could feel it – and he wanted it gone.

Yuuri looked up at the sky and hummed. “They said it would later today. I don’t mind.”

“Weren’t you the one that loved warm weather?”

“I do,” Yuuri confirmed, pulling open the door to the building. He motioned for Viktor to go first, following close behind. “But I do enjoy rain, actually. It gives me the best moods for writing songs.”

“You do realize we don’t have to write songs at this specific moment, right?” Viktor asked. With the album done, they wouldn’t have to release songs for a little while. While touring around the country would be hectic, it was a nice change to not have to pump out songs within weeks.

“I know, but I enjoy it. And just because we have an album ready to release doesn’t mean we should slack off on the writing.”

Viktor hummed, unable to deny the logic in that.

“Besides,” Yuuri continued as they walked up the stairs together, “I’ve been working in any spare time I have to get more acquainted with writing and producing songs.”

“Really?” Viktor looked at Yuuri in surprise.

Yuuri nodded. “Celestino offered to help me out, and occasionally I get help from Georgi or even Yuri and Otabek.”

“Wow, who knew Yuri would be willing to help you,” Viktor laughed. It wasn’t that big of a surprise that Celestino had offered to help. He was somewhat of a coach, in a way. Celestino and Yakov had known each other for ages and Celestino helped him out by teaching eager kids stuff around the music industry they didn’t know yet. Georgi was a rather promising producer that was waiting for his debut, but heartbreak had been a major setback for him earlier this year. It was somewhat of a surprise, however, to learn that Yuuri had gotten help from the grumpy Russian teenager.

“I know, right?” Yuuri laughed. “He saw me messing around with a recording a few days ago and got annoyed I didn’t know how everything works. So he showed me and teaches me whenever he has the time or feels like it.”

Viktor grinned. “Means he actually likes you. Don’t tell him I said that, though, he’ll chop my head off.”

Yuuri chuckled, the sound easily lost in the busy hallway. “I won’t, don’t worry.”

They had reached their destination – there was an obnoxious golden badge stating _Y. Feltsman_ on the door – and Viktor knocked twice before entering.

Unsurprisingly, Chris and Phichit were already in the room, chatting in hushed voices. Yakov wasn’t present yet, but the steaming cup of coffee on the grand desk indicated that Yakov had been in his office not long ago.

He shuffled inside the room, greeted Chris and Phichit, and sat down in his usual chair (Chris sitting on his left, Yuuri on his right), his bag dropped carelessly at his feet.

“Where’s Yakov?” Yuuri asked as he looked around the room.

“He’ll be back in a minute or so,” Phichit said. The drummer was dressed in more subdued colors today, wearing cream colored pants and a black knitted turtleneck. The maroon colored eyeliner was the only vibrant color on his face and even his jewelry was toned down. Viktor appreciated the attempt at subtlety.

True to Phichit’s words, Yakov stepped into the office soon after. His face was as stoic as ever, the lines on his forehead deep and grooved, his lips tightly perched together in a permanent scowl. He sat down in the heavy chair behind his desk, grabbing his coffee and taking a sip. His eyes looked at each of them over the edge of the cup.

Viktor hated the silence. It was filled with unspoken questions and unfair expectations. He used to be scared of the looks Yakov gave him during such silences, the stone-like eyes seemingly looking right through him. It had been rather unnerving.

But he refused to bow down now, straightening his back and squaring his shoulders as he locked eyes with their manager. Something unfamiliar flickered briefly in Yakov’s eyes, and Viktor could have sworn it was something akin of pride.

But that was ridiculous. Yakov _never_ showed his pride.

“So,” Yakov grunted once he had placed his cup of coffee back down. He cleared his throat and grabbed the papers that had been laying on the side, shifting through them until he found what he was looking for. “The critique for your show last night have been excessively positive. As I already told you boys, it was deemed good enough to start preparations for a tour. The tour will go by a few of the larger venues nearby and will last a little over a week.” Phichit made a sound that sounded close to a whine and Yakov glared at him. “Excuse me, Chulanont, something the matter?”

“No, no!” Phichit said hastily. “I just… expected more, I think?”

Yakov raised an eyebrow. “You expected _more_.” It wasn’t asked as a question nor stated as a statement. It was said as if Yakov didn’t truly believe the words and needed to say them to experience how they rolled over his tongue and moved past his lips.

Viktor admired the guts of their young drummer, because Phichit had the decency to keep his ground, instead of cowering away in fear.

“Let me get one think straight then,” Yakov continued when it became clear that Phichit wouldn’t respond. “While I applaud your ambition, I do not appreciate the ungratefulness you imply. But perhaps I haven’t made myself clear enough.” He folded his hands underneath his chin, his glare moving across the four of them. “You can’t expect to release one song and become number one. You can’t expect that one decent live will lead to touring the world. Those processes take time – _a lot_ of time. We will schedule this small tour, using it as a stepping stone for your career and to debut your album. Last night was to get people talking about the album, so more people will buy it once it drops in a few days.”

“That’s some calculated marketing,” Chris hummed in appreciation – and in a subtle attempt to brighten the mood somewhat.

Yakov nodded. “How do you think I built my empire? I can even make a person doing nothing but sitting famous with the right marketing.”

Viktor couldn’t help but snort; the idea sounded ridiculous.

“Something funny, Viktor?”

Viktor shook his head a little too quickly. “No, Yakov, sorry.”

“Then I suggest you keep your mouth shut,” Yakov scolded.

Viktor wanted to answer, he really did, but a soft hand on his leg distracted his brain from forming the proper words. Yuuri’s hand was laying on his right leg, gently squeezing it, what Viktor assumed, a calming gesture. He looked at Yuuri, but Yuuri wasn’t looking at him. Instead, his face was carefully void of any emotions and his eyes focused on their manager.

Yuuri gently squeezed again before retracting his hand. Not once did his eyes stray away from their manager.

Viktor sighed deeply and tried doing the same, averting his gaze to Yakov again – only to be met with Yakov staring right back at him. The lines around his eyes had deepened a little, indicating that he wasn’t happy about something. What he was unhappy about, however, remained a mystery. The stoic manager stayed silent as he looked at Viktor with that unnerving look on his face for another few seconds, before finally looking away and continuing with his speech.

A bewildered feeling settling somewhere inside his body as Viktor listened to the somewhat scolding words of their manager. Yakov kept going on about how they should be grateful for everything that had happened so far. It was the same as always.

Viktor had gotten used to it by now; used to the scolding treatment Yakov preferred to give. It wasn’t actually scolding, if you listened close enough, merely words of encouragement that were hidden in a layer of beratement. The words seemed harsh sometimes – he had seen enough hopeful teens running out of this office in tears – but they contained a valuable lesson underneath the bluntness. “ _Be grateful for what you have now, Vitya,_ ” Yakov had said once, a long time ago, “ _for it may well be the best you’ll ever have_.”

Crude and disheartening words to tell an eager teen, but a valuable life lesson for a naïve adult. Yakov had shared a lot of advice over the years, both welcome and immensely unwelcome, but this particular lesson had stuck. Perhaps it was the sharpness in the guidance or the fact he had experienced the bitter reality one too many times, but Viktor had learned to appreciate what he had now in favor of what he could have tomorrow. It had been a long and painful process, full of ups and down, losses and gains. There were times when he wasn’t able to, like with their career, but he managed to dull the ache of longing for more.

There were often times when Viktor didn’t exactly see eye to eye with Yakov, their personalities clashing over even the littlest things. But that didn’t mean that Viktor didn’t respect his manager or that he didn’t listen to whatever Yakov had to say. Viktor had more respect for Yakov than he was probably ever able to say out loud and he listened to each and every bit of advice Yakov gave – even if he forgot most of it.

Viktor took pride in his relationship with Yakov, difficult as said relationship may be. They had grown together, their lives entangled in the most astonishing ways. And he had learned to read Yakov, just as Yakov had learned to read him.

Which was why the particular look Yakov had given him still unnerved Viktor.

It didn’t sit well with him, the way Yakov had silently scolded him for something he wasn’t aware of he did wrong. It was the way Yakov had squinted at him, the lines around his eyes deepening and aging him considerably. It was the way he had held Viktor’s gaze longer than necessary, silently telling him _something_.

But Viktor hadn’t done anything wrong, had he? Nothing strange had happened and him snorting at the stupid example wouldn’t be a good enough reason for Yakov to silently scold him like that. The only thing that had been out of the ordinary, if you could even call it that, was Yuuri trying to calm him down silently.

 _Remember Viktor. No matter what, no matter_ who _, the band will always – always! – come first._

“For the love of god, Vitya, are you even listening to me?” Yakov didn’t scream, he never did, but his voice was like ice as he spoke.

Viktor blinked, ignoring the worrying look Yuuri threw his way. “I’m sorry, Yakov,” he mumbled, shaking his head. “I got lost in thoughts.”

“You better make sure you find your thoughts soon then,” Yakov said. His face had turned even more grim than usual. “This involves _your_ dream, not mine.”

“I am aware.” He knew that his bandmates were looking at him, but he didn’t move his head. He kept staring into those darkening eyes of Yakov, trying to search for _something_. Yakov knew something Viktor didn’t, and it was driving him mad.

“Then _listen_. Or do you want me to kick you out of your own band?”

Viktor gasped, horrified. “You _wouldn’t_.”

“I most definitely would, Vitya. It is my job to make History Maker famous. It _isn’t_ my job to babysit _you_. Have I made myself clear?”

Viktor wanted desperately for Yakov to yell, or to scream, but Yakov remained stoic as ever, his voice not once raising the tiniest bit. The threats were far scarier that way. He slumped back into the chair, finally averting his gaze. “Yes, Yakov,” he mumbled. As much as he liked to push Yakov’s buttons, he knew a line when he had crossed one – and he had definitely crossed one now. It was visible in the way Yakov perched his lips together into a thin, disapproving line, and in the way his pupils dilated into dark orbs.

“Good,” Yakov scoffed. “Now, as I was saying, you will meet with Greg tomorrow for the final revision of the album. Everything should be good to go, but I want you guys to give it the green light. If so, we will release it at the end of the week. From then on, you guys have four weeks to prepare for the tour. I will plan some meetings with some people concerning the details of the stage presence somewhere in the next two weeks. Any questions?”

It remained silent, but Viktor wasn’t sure whether it was due to the lack of questions or because of the scolding he had received earlier.

“Now off you go, I have more things to do,” Yakov said after it become obvious there were no questions.

They said their goodbyes, mostly in hushed voices, before quickly leaving the office and closing the door behind them.

Viktor hoped no one would comment on the rather awkward conversation, but of course life wasn’t so kind.

“Well,” Chris said the moment the door clicked close behind them, “that was the most awkward conversation I have ever had with Yakov – and I’ve had quite a few of those.”

“Even more awkward than the talk you had after walking around in those jeans that were literally laced closed on the side from thigh to toe?” Phichit snorted.

“Okay, maybe not _that_ awkward, but awkward nonetheless.”

“Gross,” Yuuri whined, “I did not need that image in my head.”

“Imagine having to see the real deal,” Phichit said a little too happily. “It was quite the scandal. And that’s saying something, since Feltman’s agency rarely cares about what we wear.”

“But why would you even wear such pants?” Yuuri asked.

Chris shrugged. “I lost a bet, Viktor made me wear it.”

“Still worth it,” Viktor said, grinning as he remembered the stupid bet. Chris hadn’t believed that Viktor would be able to pick up each and every guy in the bar and they had placed a stupid bet on it. It had simply been Viktor’s luck that Chris had picked a rather willing subject for Viktor to persuade.

“I assume this happened in the time you two still shared an apartment?” Yuuri mused, a knowing look in his eyes.

“Why do you think we aren’t living together anymore,” Chris joked, seemingly oblivious to the knowing looks Yuuri and Viktor exchanged. “But it still was a rather strange conversation.”

Yuuri hummed. “I have to agree with Chris. Are you sure you’re okay?” His dark eyes scanned over Viktor’s face worriedly.

“I’m fine,” Viktor tried to reassure them. “Just a lot on my mind lately, but nothing important. Come on, let’s go to the studio and play around a bit.” He desperately hoped they would simply let it go.

In the end, they did, but he noticed the worried looks they threw him every now and then while they played. It wasn’t an official practice session, as they fooled around more than they were actually playing, but it was nice and easy. Chris and Phichit left eventually, Chris having an appointment elsewhere and Phichit went to meet Seung-gil again.

Viktor kept on strumming his guitar after they had said goodbyes, while Yuuri messed around a bit on the laptop on the couch. They didn’t talk, simply minded their own business for a little while. He appreciated moments like that, where Yuuri and he could live beside each other like that, not bothered by whatever the other person was doing. It reminded him of the time where Yuuri had come to his home to finish his thesis in piece – it seemed like ages ago.

Perhaps, he thought, that was the reason for his overflowing thoughts. So much had happened in the past weeks, maybe too much. It sometimes felt as if years had gone by already, but it had barely been four months of continuous and never-ending work. Which meant it had also been close to six months since Alex had left them and Yuuri had joined them.

Speaking of Alex…

“Have you seen that article in the paper today, about that new tv show that is a hit?” Viktor asked. He stopped his childish strumming – it hadn’t sounded like anything anyway.

Yuuri didn’t look up from the screen, his eyes focused on something Viktor couldn’t see. “Can’t say that I have. What about it?”

Viktor shrugged, only to realize too late that Yuuri wasn’t looking at him. “Alex is in that show.”

“That’s good,” Yuuri said, his eyes flickering towards Viktor briefly.

“Is it?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Yuuri put the laptop to the side. Viktor could see parts of the synthesizer program they used often on the screen. “Alex wanted out of the music industry to focus on other dreams. Isn’t it great that he got what he wanted?”

Viktor huffed. “Maybe.”

“Vitya.”

“ _What?_ ”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Yuuri asked – _again_ –, his voice soft, gentle almost. His eyes bore nothing but concern, his brow furrowed together.

The words ‘ _I’m fine’_ were already halfway past his lips when Viktor closed his mouth abruptly. “I don’t know,” he said honestly instead. “I think everything is just slowly catching up to me.”

Yuuri cocked his head to the side, his fringe falling into his eyes. It was funny, Viktor thought, how the way Yuuri styled his hair could make him go from insanely hot to immensely fluffy. “Well,” Yuuri breathed, combing his hand through his fringe to get the hair out of his eyes, “it has been hectic.”

And it truly had been. They had written over ten songs, recorded them, did an interview – heck they even had a proper photoshoot planned somewhere this week. It was all marketing – curtesy of their manager, of course.

“Yeah,” Viktor agreed, slumping back into the chair he was sitting on.

Yuuri stood suddenly, smacking the laptop close. “Let’s go.”

“Go?” Viktor asked confused, watching how Yuuri grabbed his hoodie and bag. “Go _where_?”

“Anywhere.” Yuuri smiled brightly, offering his hand for Viktor to take. “We’re taking the day off today – work will still be here tomorrow.”

Still slightly confused, Viktor grabbed Yuuri’s hand and allowed the vocalist to pull him out of the chair. He grabbed his bag as well, not letting go of Yuuri’s hand, and let Yuuri lead the way.

They walked out of the building together, their fingers still entwined, taking random turns here and there. Yuuri took the lead, talking mostly about silly stories from his childhood. He talked avidly about his hometown, about the _onsen_ his parents had run there, about his family – both stories he had already told and stories that were new to Viktor. He listened earnestly, laughing loud and free whenever Yuuri told something funny.

They bought food from a small shop hidden in an alley, swapping halfway so they could taste what the other had chosen.

“You know,” Viktor said after he had taken a bite from Yuuri’s chosen food, “I have never been to Japan, but I feel like I know the country already.”

“How so?” Yuuri tugged on his hand, signaling that they were about to take a right turn. The streets were starting to get busier, people mingling about minding their own business.

“Food tells you a lot about the country it comes from, right? And you eat a lot of Japanese food that you share with me – with us.”

Yuuri hummed, the sound low and vibrating, almost drawn out by the sounds of roaring engines from the cars passing by. “I suppose that is true,” he said thoughtfully. “Phichit wasn’t lying then, when he said I really do enjoy my Japanese food every once in a while.”

“I don’t mind,” Viktor chuckled, because he didn’t. While the flavors had been slightly weird in the beginning, he had grown used to the spices by now, thanks to Yuuri.

Yuuri looked up at him in surprise. “You don’t?” he asked, a smile around the corner of his lips.

“I don’t,” Viktor confirmed, shaking his head. “I don’t like every dish you’ve introduced me to, but I do enjoy most of them.”

The smile on Yuuri’s face could power an entire building with the brightness it brought along with it. “Good.”

They walked in relative silence again after that, still holding hands. Every now and then Yuuri would squeeze his hand, smiling the softest smiles at him when Viktor would look in slight confusion. It was a comfortable silence and Viktor found himself smiling back whenever Yuuri squeezed his hand.

They kept on walking, passing tall buildings and small appartments. A small park was just around the corner and they walked towards it. Yuuri cooed at every dog that passed by, going through his knees to scratch them behind the ears.

Viktor watched in adoration, both for the dogs and for the vocalist. Yuuri was definitely _fluffy_ today, especially with the way he talked in a high-pitched voice to the random dogs.

“I want another dog one day,” Yuuri said after watching a small pup walk away with his owner. The pup bounced happily, barking at a butterfly that fluttered by, wagging his tail happily.

Viktor held out his hand unconsciously; Yuuri grabbed it without hesitation. “What kind of dog?”

“Doesn’t matter. I would love another poodle, but I wouldn’t mind owning another breed either.”

“Maybe I should get a dog too then,” Viktor chuckled, “so they can have playdates.”

Yuuri gasped audibly at that. “ _Oh my god,_ yes, that needs to happen!”

“When?”

“Whenever there is the time,” Yuuri reasoned.

Viktor laughed, amused by the eager look in Yuuri’s eyes. “Okay then, let’s to that.”

“Pinky promise?” Yuuri held up his hand – the one that wasn’t entwined with Viktor’s.

“Pinky promise.”

They walked back shortly after that, Yuuri inviting Viktor to eat dinner at the restaurant, which Viktor gladly accepted. He would never say no to food from the Katsuki family; it was too good food for that.

The happy smile didn’t leave his face once during the way back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you guys know how often I want to smack Viktor on the back of the head for his obliviousness? Well, I suppose I didn't call it a slowburn for nothing. 
> 
> Your kuddos and comments warm my heart, truly, and motivate me to finish chapters sooner! Thank you all, from the bottom of my heart, for reading this and enjoying it. As a writer, it is the best compliment I can receive.
> 
> Until next level!


	8. Suddenly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _We're standing on the edge  
>  Then suddenly I'm breaking past the lies  
>  It's something magical  
>  We outta say a lullaby  
>  Into the pain I go  
>  Say our last goodbye  
>  Suddenly_
> 
> Suddenly - One OK Rock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own mistakes and imagination.

Yutopia was relatively quiet when they entered the small restaurant. It was the gentle chatting and low laughter that filled the dining room with soft sounds. Aromas that were now familiar to Viktor filled his nose – a beautiful blend of ginger, cooked meat, and something spicy. It prickled his senses, making his nostrils itch slightly (in a good way) and his mouth water.

Yuuri led the way, his body manoeuvring with practiced ease between the tables, nodding politely towards customers that recognised him and saying a soft hello to one of the waiters. 

Viktor didn't recognise the particular waiter Yuuri said hello to, but he nodded a greeting as well. They walked towards the usual table in the corner, close to the doors that led to the kitchen, and he sat down. “You’re not going to sit?” he asked Yuuri, who was still standing.

“I'll just say hi to my parents and get us some food,” Yuuri said. 

Viktor nodded and watched Yuuri disappear behind the doors. He could hear enthusiastic greetings - even though it was said in Japanese - before the doors closed, muting whatever was being said. Not that Viktor would have been able to understand it anyway. Yuuri had tried to teach him some basic Japanese words, and while he might understand some basic greetings by now, he wasn’t able to understand an entire conversation.

Viktor waited patiently, toying with the phone in his hand. His eyes roamed freely around the restaurant, observing the people that were enjoying their food. It was quiet, with only a few customers sitting at the tables. They were mostly couples, though there was a small family sitting at one of the tables, the little girl clumsily eating noodles with chopsticks. The chattering was quiet, a mix between English and languages Viktor didn't understand. It fascinated him, how different people from different countries and cultures looked so similar at moments like these. No matter where all these people came from, they were enjoying the food from the restaurant, slurping on the noodles and chewing happily on the soft meat. 

“Do you want to order anything, sir?” 

Viktor looked up at the waiter in front of him. It was the same guy he had nodded towards earlier. He was young, Viktor noticed, his body short and slender. He wasn’t a teenager anymore, but his body hadn’t filled out the way adolescent bodies used to do. His brown eyes looked friendly though, and while there was a barely visible flush tinting his cheeks, he remained polite and composed enough. Viktor smiled politely and shook his head. “I’m sure Yuuri is already ordering something, but thank you.”

The polite composure faltered somewhat. It was a subtle change, but the boy seemed to relax a little, the flush on his cheeks lessening. “Are you a friend of Yuuri?”

“I am,” Viktor nodded. “Yuuri usually takes us here after practice.”

“Oh!” the boy exclaimed. His eyes twinkled and he smiled brightly – the professional composure seemingly completely forgotten. “You must be Viktor then!”

“I am,” Viktor chuckled, amused. “And you are…?”

The boy straightened his stance immediately, the flush returning to his cheeks. “I’m Ji Guang Hong,” he introduced himself, bowing a little. “I am going to major in music, just like you!” The color on his cheeks deepened even further, as if the information he gave was embarrassing to tell. His eyes looked mischievous, childish curiosity visible. “What’s it like,” he asked in a hushed tone, “being in a famous band?”

Viktor cocked his head to the side, looking at the boy in amusement. "We're not a famous band, kid," he answered truthfully. They weren’t famous – not yet. They might have an album on their name soon and have a small tour, but they weren’t famous. There were no guarantees they would be. It depended on whatever would happen over the next weeks and even then, there would be no certainty. In their business, in their industry, there were no guarantees. You could be considered an amazing artist one day, only to be discarded the next day for newer, better artists.

Guang Hong opened his mouth, presumably to say something, but closed it when a hand rested on his shoulder.

“Guang Hong,” Yuuri said. "I hope you're not disturbing Viktor?" There was a smile on his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. His eyes were stern, as was his voice.  

“Don't worry, Yuuri,” Viktor spoke before the kid could answer, “he was just curious about us and the band. He wasn't disturbing me at all.” 

Yuuri eyed Viktor for a moment, his eyes suddenly unreadable, before he focused his attention on Guang Hong again. “You’re needed in the kitchen,” he said, his voice still stern, but his eyes much softer.

Guang Hong bowed, mumbling multiple apologies, and scurried away. Viktor watched in amusement. “Since when are you so harsh on innocent little kids?”

“You find this harsh?” Yuuri asked, raising his eyebrow at Viktor. He took off his coat, draping it across the back of the chair and sat down. “I’m not harsh on them, Vitya,” he continued, and Viktor ignored the flutter in his chest. “I am giving them the guidance they need. He’s still young and eager, but sometimes that eagerness has to wait for more appropriate times.”

Viktor hummed. “I understand.”

“I ordered katsudon for you, by the way,” Yuuri said, changing the topic.

“That’s okay.”

“And my parents might come by and say hi to you in a little bit. They were annoyed I didn’t bring you to the kitchen.”

Viktor snorted. Yuuri’s parents were adorable, fussing over him whenever he came by. It wasn’t just him, though, as Hiroko dotted on all of them whenever they were at the restaurant.

Silence fell between them as they waited for their food to arrive. Yuuri busied himself with his phone, playing some kind of stupid game he always played whenever there was time. Viktor simply watched for a while - observed, if you will. While Yuuri could be a private person, his facial expressions, how small they may be, were a great source of information. Whenever he made a wrong move, his brow furrowed in frustration. When he made a good move, he smiled a tiny smile that tugged at the corners of his lips just barely. It was fascinating to see.

Yuuri glanced over every now and then, smirking when he caught Viktor looking. Not that Viktor was trying to hide his not so subtle glances anyway.

“You do know that pictures last longer, right?” Yuuri said after a while without looking up from his phone. His eyes twinkled and a smirk lay on his lips.

“You sound like Chris when you say that,” Viktor shot back, suddenly reminded of the night all those weeks ago when Chris and he had worked on the introduction song. The silly pictures were still on his phone – he didn’t have the heart to delete any of them.

“You make it sound like that’s a bad thing.”

Viktor pursed his lips and cocked his head to the side. “Maybe it is.”

Yuuri looked up from his phone, one eyebrow raised. “Chris will be so heartbroken when he hears you speak like that about him.”

“I highly doubt it.” Viktor shrugged. “His ego is bigger than ours combined and that’s saying something.”

“Are you saying I have a big ego?”

Viktor blinked. “No?”

“You totally were,” Yuuri grinned.

“What if I were?” Viktor asked, deciding to play along with whatever it was that they were doing. “What are you going to do about it?”

The smile on Yuuri’s face was both equally beautiful and terrifying. “Patience, Vitya, you’ll find out eventually.” He grabbed the glass of water in front of him and took a sip, his eyes never letting go of Viktors. The gaze was intense, far more intense than Viktor had ever seen from Yuuri and it did things to him he didn’t understand.

“Are you _blushing_?” Yuuri asked in disbelief and true to his words, Viktor felt the familiar heat rising in his cheeks.

“ _No_ ,” he practically growled, ducking his head. He felt betrayed by his own body and inwardly cursed it to hell and back. “It’s just a bit warm in here, okay?”

Yuuri snorted, the sound loud and undignified. “Of course, whatever you say.” He was still smiling, his gaze far too intense for Viktor’s liking, but he decided to let it go.

Barely a minute later, steaming bowls filled with food were placed on the table and Viktor was pulled from his chair by the ever loving Katsuki Hiroko. She was small, but she was strong, and Viktor yelped when he was yanked from his chair.

Hiroko seemed oblivious, hugging Viktor far too tight. “ _Vicchan!_ ” she cooed, patting his head. “Why did you not come and say hello?” The words were laced with a heavy Japanese accent, the sentence not flowing as smoothly as those of a native speaker. Viktor didn’t mind – he found the slightly broken English only added to her charms.

“ _Okaasan_ ,” Yuuri said, “you’re hurting Viktor.”

“Oh!” Hiroko immediately loosened her tight embrace and Viktor took his chance to wiggle loose and sit back down in his chair. “I am very sorry, Vicchan. I am just happy to see you!”

She reminded Viktor of his grandmother, who had died far too early. But they had the same happy and bubbly aura, radiating warmth and care wherever they went. It was probably why he never minded her lack of boundaries and allowed her to dote on him the way she did. The child in him craved the warmth, craved the love only a mother could give.

He waved her apology away. “It is always nice to see you too, ma’am.” He smiled at her brightly, hoping she understood he was sincere. “Next time I’ll join Yuuri and come say hello, okay?”

Hiroko’s eyes lit up and she nodded furiously. “Yes, yes! Now, enjoy good food, okay?” She managed to shove the chopsticks in Viktor’s hands. “Don’t let food get cold. Go on, eat, eat!” She smiled brightly and gave Yuuri an affectionate pat on the head before retreating to the kitchen.

Viktor watched her walk away and adjusted the chopsticks in his hands. It was no wonder Yuuri turned out the way he did, with a mother like Hiroko. He was about to dive into his food – which smelled _amazing_ – when he noticed the look Yuuri was sporting. “What?” he asked, lowering the chopsticks.

“For some reason my mom absolutely _adores_ you,” Yuuri said, “and I have no idea _why_.”

“Because I am so charming?” Viktor said, feigning confidence.

Yuuri kicked his leg. _Bastard_.

“ _No_ , you idiot,” Yuuri huffed. He didn’t even apologize for the kick, opting instead to grab a piece of meat from his bowl. “She called you _Vicchan_ , Viktor.”

Viktor rubbed the sore spot on his leg. Damn, Yuuri might be small, he was stronger than he looked. _Just like his mother_. “So?”

Yuuri rolled his eyes in annoyance (and Viktor tugged his legs underneath his chair, afraid the younger would kick him again). “My mom _never_ uses a nickname like that for my other friends. Not even with Phichit and she has known Phichit for ages now and practically adopted him.”

“I still don’t understand what you’re getting at,” Viktor admitted while shrugging.

Yuuri grunted. “That I don’t understand _why_ she adores you enough to call you like that.”

Viktor shrugged again, repositioning the chopsticks in his hand and grabbed a few noodles. He still wasn’t as good with chopsticks as Yuuri or Phichit were, but he was getting the hang of it. “Like I said, I am a very charming man.”

“And you dare say that Chris has a large ego,” Yuuri huffed, diving into his own food as well.

“He does,” Viktor affirmed in-between bites.

“So do you.”

“I never said that I didn’t.”

“You- _argh_.” Yuuri practically stabbed the piece of pork with his chopsticks in annoyance. “It’s no fun when you admit to your shortcomings that easily,” he whined.

“But Yuuri,” Viktor said, trying to hide the smile that was tugging at the corner of his lips, feigning innocence, “I can’t admit to my shortcomings, because nothing about me is short.”

Yuuri blinked twice and Viktor could practically see the cogs turning in his head before the younger realised what exactly had been said. “ _For fucks sake_ ,” he groaned. “Tone it down, you idiot. We’re at my parents’ restaurant.”

“But your parents adore me,” Viktor pouted.

The glare Yuuri gave him was worthy of rivalling the permanent scowls of Yuri Plizetsky. “They won’t when they hear you talking like that _in their restaurant._ ”

“Ah,” Viktor sighed, happily diving into the steaming food in front of him again. “We wouldn’t want that, of course. What would I do without the Katsuki family adoring me?”

Yuuri rolled his eyes, but started eating again as well, grabbing the pieces of pork with a lot less force than before. “You’re an idiot,” he said after a few seconds of silence.

“Perhaps,” Viktor mused, unbothered, “but you love me.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“That’s just another way of saying that you can’t live without me.”

“I’d strangle you if I could.”

Viktor wanted to give a witty response, but the look on Yuuri’s face made him burst out into laughter. Yuuri was pursing his lips in a desperate attempt to keep a serious face, but he failed miserably, laughing along with Viktor. They earned both confused and irritated looks from the people around them, but Viktor couldn’t care less. This was why Yuuri had practically dragged him out of the studio: to loosen up and have some fun.

It had been such hectic weeks, especially for the two of them. The writing part had been fun, and Viktor had thoroughly enjoyed it – but had also been draining his energy. When was the last time he had done something for himself?

He honestly couldn’t remember.

He sighed, pushing the vegetables and pork around in his almost empty bowl. “Would you do it, if you’d get the chance?” he asked, not looking up from his bowl.

“Do what?”

“Strangle me.”

There was an almost agonising silence before Yuuri finally answered. “Of course not, you idiot,” Yuuri said, scolded almost, and Viktor felt his cheeks heat up again in some sort of embarrassment. “I thought I made myself clear in the car this morning that I’m here for the long run and that I’m grateful for joining you guys.”

“I know,” Viktor muttered, because he _did_ know.

But then why did he need to hear it _again_ from Yuuri? Why did he need the reassurance?

 _Why_?

He shook his head, trying to clear the dark thoughts from his mind. “But it’s always good to hear again,” he added, as some sort of explanation. He placed the chopsticks down, the rest of his hunger suddenly gone and watched Yuuri do the same.

“You can always ask me,” Yuuri assured. “Whenever you need to hear it, you only have to ask.” He held out his hand and Viktor took it without hesitation.

It felt so normal now, so comfortable, to simply hold Yuuri’s hands in his. Yuuri squeezed gently, like he had this morning during their meeting with Yakov. Viktor couldn’t help but squeeze back.

He _almost_ whimpered when Yuuri pulled his hand away, but he managed to catch the embarrassing sound in time.

Yuuri seemed oblivious to the mental breakdown Viktor was currently experiencing, for which he was grateful. Instead, Yuuri stood from the chair and grabbed his coat. “Come,” he said, smiling warmly.

“Where to?” Viktor asked as he stood as well. The weather had gotten considerably worse while they had been eating. Dark clouds covered the sky and rain drizzled down. It didn’t seem to be enough to soak people to the bone, but he could see the occasional person holding an umbrella.

“You have sports clothing at the studio, right?” Yuuri countered, completely ignoring Viktor’s question.

Viktor nodded while he put on his coat. It wasn’t the best coat for rainy days, but he hadn’t exactly expected the sudden change in weather.

“Good,” Yuuri hummed. He grabbed the bowls from the table and disappeared behind the double doors. Viktor could vaguely hear the sweet goodbyes murmured between parents and son.

Yuuri was back within seconds, still smiling warmly, and beckoned Viktor to follow him, so he did. They said their goodbyes to Guang Hong – who beamed at Viktor – and left the restaurant.

The sudden cold was uncomfortable, to say the least, and Viktor cursed loudly. “Whatever you have in mind,” he grumbled, “it better be close by.”

“It is, don’t worry,” Yuuri laughed. He, too, pulled his coat tighter around his body. “I wanted to go back to the studio.”

Viktor raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Weren’t you the one that wanted to get me _out_ of the studio?”

“Yes,” Yuuri admitted as he started to walk towards Feltman’s building. “But I don’t want to go back for another practice session.”

“Then _why_?”

Yuuri threw him a crooked grin. “Whenever there was too much going on inside my head, I used to go ice skating back home or dance at the ballet studio nearby. I know we aren’t exactly professional dancers, but I have seen you move – you can dance. I thought it might be fun to practice a dance routine together.”

“In ballet?”

“No, you idiot.” Yuuri punched him in the shoulder, but it was soft, obviously playful. “I said that I used the ballet studio nearby to dance, not that I practiced ballet there only. I tried out a lot of styles, so we can do whatever you like.”

Viktor had never in his life tried dancing in a way Yuuri was proposing. Sure, he liked to dance when he went out and he was told many times he should have tried a dancing career. Apparently, his body got accustomed to different dancing styles easily, allowing him to be a fast learner. During his college years, he had tried out some dancing classes, ranging from ballet to hip hop to ballroom. And he had actually enjoyed it enough to stay in those classes for a few weeks, before dropping it. He had no desire to perform a routine in front of people at the end of the year, so staying in those classes would have been a waste of everyone’s time.

But Viktor had never used dancing as a tool to get rid of all the thoughts in his heads. Usually, whenever he really needed to clear his head, he would grab his guitar and play until his fingers bled and his body ached.

But that hadn’t exactly helped with the reoccurring thoughts he was having these past few weeks, did it?

The thoughts never left completely, bubbling underneath the surface. They waited patiently, until Viktor was tired and worn out, coming out whenever he was at his lowest points. He was aware that the thoughts were mostly nonsense and unreasonable, and that he shouldn’t be so hung up on the past – but the thoughts didn’t listen. They didn’t go away.

Perhaps dancing his heart out, together with Yuuri, could do whatever his beloved guitar hadn’t been able to do.

Viktor breathed out a shaky breath. “Okay,” he murmured.

Yuuri’s face lit up and suddenly he seemed so much younger. “Good.”

The relatively short walk back to the studio was silent, but somewhere during the journey they had started to hold hands again. Yuuri had been the one to initiate it, smiling brightly when Viktor took the offered hand.

Viktor found himself glancing at their entwined hands far too often. Yuuri’s hand was small and smooth, falling almost perfectly into his own larger hand. It felt nice – better than nice, if he was honest. A traitorous part of his brain wanted this to last, to keep these moments for himself, but he knew there would come a time where they couldn’t act like this anymore. Assuming their career would happen, they would have to act a certain way. It was okay to be openly gay – Yakov encouraged it even, saying that artists could help in changing the view of the world towards relationships that weren’t heterosexual – but it wasn’t okay to be openly gay with your band members.

 _“You have to be available, Vitya,”_ Yakov had said, years ago when Viktor had been a hormonal adolescent. Chris and he had officially signed their contract not too long ago, celebrating it far too enthusiastically. He had been so frightened that day in Yakov’s office, hiding behind his hair – it had still been long back then. It was the first time Yakov had called him to his office, the tipping point where their easy relationship morphed into a difficult work-based relationship. It had never fitted them, not with the way they had known each other for years. It was probably why Viktor could get away with so much now and why Yakov pulled all the strings he could when needed. They might never admit it, but they were the closest thing to family the both of them had.

 _“You have to be available_ , _”_ Yakov had said again, after Viktor had come crying in the office after a disastrous date, Chris holding his hand in comfort. _“As a muscician, the world wants you. Once you become famous, like you intend to be, there will be no room for Chris and you to be… intimate all over each other.”_

 _“Chris and I aren’t like that_ , _”_ Viktor had said through gritted teeth.

_“I know that, and you know that, and Chris knows that, but the world doesn’t know that. The moment you become famous enough for the press to notice you, the world will follow your every move. Don’t make the mistake so many before you have made.”_

The rules were clear. You could date, but you ought to be discrete about it. You could be overly friendly and touchy with your bandmates but had to make sure it didn’t give off the wrong ideas to the world. It was up to you whatever the hell you did behind closed doors, but you ought the act responsible in the outside world. Viktor had seen far too many bands crumble underneath the pressure, scandals killing every potential they might have had.

Viktor had pushed the boundaries of those rules, seeking whatever freedom he had, much to the annoyance of Yakov. There had been many arguments related to this particular issue, Yakov only agreeing to let Viktor be the way he was as long as they hadn’t had their debut yet. And Viktor had agreed, happily moving on living his life the way he had; naïve and overly affectionate.

But he had grown older, the rules had become harsher, and the debut had come nearer. If everything would happen according to plan, he would have to find the stage persona within him – the mask that would hide his true self from the brutal world outside. He wouldn’t last if he didn’t.

It also meant that moments like these were off-limits. What if the press caught them holding hands? It could start a lot of nasty things that could break them. Viktor wasn’t going to risk it.

Which meant he had to make the most of what he had now, traitorous thoughts be damned. He held Yuuri’s hand tighter than he probably should, caressing the smooth skin in an almost loving gesture. They didn’t mention it, and Viktor hid it where he hid all the other thoughts, actions, and feelings that scared him.

Yuuri guided him towards the training rooms, grabbing their sports clothing along the way. They changed quickly, their sounds and soft chatting echoing loud from the walls. Yuuri decided on some music, a song with a heavy beat and funky guitar. Viktor had never heard it before but followed Yuuri blindly.

(And it scared him how easily he did that, how easily he had trusted Yuuri with his entire being, but he shoved it away, as he did with all those traitorous thoughts.)

Yuuri seemed to have some sort of choreography for the song, explaining the steps he took and showing the twirls he made. It was a mix of various styles, but it dripped in confidence, showing both boldness and fierceness. It took Viktor some time to get used to the abrupt movements, but he got the hang of it eventually, much to Yuuri’s delight.

“Twist, jump down, up and left,” Yuuri quasi-yelled while they did the routine, his tone matching the beat of the song. “Back, arms up, throw away and push!”

Viktor tried his best, though it was obvious he wasn’t as skilled as Yuuri was. But he had to admit they looked rather good in the mirror. Their bodies were sweaty from the excessive movements, their black shirts clinging to their torsos, their hairs disheveled – but it worked. It made the entire image better, less neat and bubbly. It matched the bold sounds of the drums, the harsh strums of the guitar.

The more they danced, practicing the choreography over and over again, the more Viktor found himself loosening up. The thoughts were racing through his mind as he danced, but with each aggressive push, with each energetic jump, the thoughts jabbed a little less harsh.

Suddenly he realised he had been rather egocentric. While he still didn’t approve of the way Alex had suddenly abandoned them, he wasn’t angry at their former vocalist. The band had been their dream, of Chris, Phichit and himself – it had never been Alex’ dream. As much as Viktor wanted to resent Alex for what he did, Viktor found that he couldn’t, not anymore. Besides, Alex’ departure had led them to Yuuri.

 _Yuuri_ …

Viktor eyed Yuuri through the mirror in front of them, his heart hammering away in his chest. Yuuri was so captivating like this, immensely beautiful and free. His eyes were focused on his mirror image, his movements precise and sharp. He radiated that particular confidence again, the same confidence he brought when he was on stage.

Viktor watched, his movements stilling, completely captivated as Yuuri danced his way through the routine. The movements seemed effortless, the muscles in his arms and legs suddenly clearly visible. And then there were the facial expressions, suddenly so grand and clear.

Viktor wanted to see those expressions more often. The expressions that bordered on the line between pleasure and pain, between teasing and aroused. The images were forever ingrained in his mind and he made a strangled noise.

Yuuri stopped dancing, looking over at Viktor, the last traces of the lewd expressions still visible on his face.

For a fraction of a second, Viktor expected Yuuri to make a move, for the younger to push him against a wall and act on the adrenaline running through their veins.

But Yuuri didn’t – _of course he didn’t, get your head together Nikiforov_ – and smiled apologetically instead. “I’m sorry, I might have gotten a little bit too enthusiastic with my dancing.”

Another strangled noise threatened to leave his throat and Viktor resorted to feigning coughing, hoping he would cover up the _needy_ noise his body threatened to produce. “It’s fine,” he managed to say in-between coughs.

Yuuri smiled, that beautiful smile that Viktor had grown to love so much. It was a sincere smile, one Yuuri only gave when he truly meant it. It was the smile he wore whenever he was feeling both comfortable and confident and it was truly breathtaking. But it were his eyes that captivated Viktor – dark orbs that glistened dangerously, promising something dark and ravishing.

Viktor could feel his breath hitch in his throat, suddenly unable to look away. Yuuri was beautiful like this, _especially_ like this, with his hair a mess and his breathing ragged from dancing his heart out. The black shirt clung to his torso, accentuating the toned chest Yuuri liked to keep hidden underneath comfortable hoodies.

And oh, how Viktor suddenly _wanted_ , the feeling clawing its way through his body without mercy. It filled his veins, his bones, his entire head – drugging him into a state where he couldn’t think clearly. It was overwhelming, nauseating almost, chocking him in the best way possible. His heart hammered loud in his ears, painful against his chest.

He couldn’t look away, suddenly so lost in his feelings that crumbled under the dark gaze from Yuuri.

 _Remember, Vitya, the band comes before everything and_ everyone _, no matter what._

And oh, how fucked he was.

Viktor wanted to laugh at his own idiocy, at his own stupid naivety that had always been his worst weakness and best strength. It had betrayed him, like it had done so many times before – but it hadn’t mattered before, not like this.

He hadn’t been _infatuated_ with a band member before. Sure, he had adored Chris when he had been younger, might have been attracted to him. They had experimented together, tentative kisses and soft touches that had meant nothing to either of them. It hadn’t been like _this_ , not in the slightest.

Yakov had seen it, hadn’t he? As was always the case, their manager had been right, seeing right through the mask Viktor wasn’t even aware he wore. It might have surprised him when he was younger – not anymore. He was older now, more mature, and he should have trusted Yakov when he still had the chance.

_Fuck._

The world felt like it had come to a stop, even though that wasn’t the case. The world never stopped spinning, never stopped her continuous turning and turning, chasing around the sun. There would always be a new night, as there would always be a new morning.

But it felt like the world had stopped spinning now, even if only for a second.

Viktor hated it immediately, hated the way the cruel realisation made everything stop for a while. It probably had been seconds only since Yuuri had smiled at him that way, but it felt like hours had passed. Time was funny like that. Time would always stay the same, never speeding or slowing, but it _felt_ like it did. It was a beautiful trick of the mind.

Viktor came crashing down to earth – the beautiful earth that hadn’t stopped spinning, that hadn’t slowed time – when soft fingers touched his cheek. The fingers were cold, and he hissed in surprise. The fingers didn’t move, pressing harder into his cheek instead.

“Vitya, are you okay?”

 _Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck_.

Why, _why_ , did Yuuri have to say his name like that? It made that traitorous part in his mind purr with delight.

_Stop._

He didn’t know how he managed, but somehow, he remained rather calm on the outside – while falling apart on the inside. This couldn’t happen, not now, not ever. Viktor was painfully aware of that. He had to bottle the idiotic feelings of infatuation somehow and get on with his life. Come to think of it, he hadn’t had some action in the bedroom lately, so it was probably a hilarious trick of his silly mind. Viktor wanted to laugh the tension away – yes, it was all just a silly little trick of his mind. This had happened before and he could squash the stupid infatuation before it got worse. He had done it once; he could do it again.

(Though deep down, in those parts he chose to ignore, a part of him knew it wasn’t that easy.)

He smiled, that bubbly heart-shaped smile he was known for, as he pushed the thoughts away. “Of course I’m okay,” he said, his voice too bright in his own ears, “why wouldn’t I be?”

Yuuri looked at him, a frown on his face. “You were spacing out.”

“I’m fine,” Viktor repeated.

“I don’t-” Yuuri began, his sentence cut off when a phone rang loudly. Yuuri looked between Viktor and the phone for a couple of seconds, before deciding on the phone. He took the call, his eyes resting on Viktor again, the frown still visible. “Hey? Oh, hey Phichit, what’s up?” He pressed a button on his phone and suddenly the studio was filled with the excited voice that belonged to Phichit. “You’re on speaker, by the way,” Yuuri said, “I’m here with Viktor.”

“Hi Phichit!” Viktor greeted loudly, confirming his presence.

“ _Ooooh, what are my homeboys doing?_ ”

Yuuri threw Viktor a look. “We were releasing some stress. I taught Viktor that choreography we learned last year.”

Phichit gasped audibly. “ _Tell me you guys have at least filmed it! You always look so good when you do that choreography and I’m sure Viktor will look just as good._ ”

Yuuri laughed. “Sorry, Phichit-kun, we didn’t film it. Maybe next time, okay?”

“ _Fine, but only because I love you. Now, the reason why I called you: Chris and I had the best idea ever._ ”

“Tell me,” Yuuri said monotonous, “I am dying from the suspension.”

“ _Gah, what’s with the lack of enthusiasm Yuuri-kun! You disappoint me._ ” Viktor could practically _hear_ the massive pout Phichit was undoubtedly sporting.

“Life mission accomplished then.”

“ _I hate you,”_ Phichit said, his tone implying he obviously didn’t. _“But anyway, Chris and I thought it would be great to have a movie night tonight! We won’t take no for an answer, as I’m already making sure everything is in order. We’re watching at Chris’ place, by the way._ ”

“Okay, okay. We’ll take a shower and head over. Do we need to bring anything?”

“ _No, Chris is getting everything we need from the store as we speak. See you in a bit then, amigos!_ ”

They said their goodbyes after that and Yuuri put the phone back into his coat. He was smiling again, the frown almost completely gone. “Maybe this is a good idea,” he hummed.

Viktor looked up from his bag. He had been halfway through finding the stuff he needed for a quick shower. “What is?”

“Movies night,” Yuuri said. “Phichit and I used to have those all the time during college. They’re fun and relaxing.”

“Depends on the movies you watch, I suppose.”

“Fair enough, but knowing Chris and Phichit it will probably be something cheesy as fuck.”

Viktor snorted. “I hate to say it, but you’re probably right. At least it’s better than a horror movie or something.”

“I know,” Yuuri laughed. “Now let’s go shower, my muscles are killing me already.”

~

The shower had been good. It had calmed both Viktor’s aching muscles and throbbing head to a bearable level. He had come to the inevitable conclusion that he needed to get over this silly infatuation as soon as possible. No one needed to know about it and Viktor would do his best to stay the friend he had been to Yuuri. The domestic touching would soon be something of the past anyway, so he wouldn’t have to worry about that anymore.

And perhaps he should just get laid again. Truth to be told, he had outgrown seeking partners for the night just for the sake of sex, but he reasoned it might help him now. Perhaps he could ask Chris to go clubbing again soon. It might release some of his stress and deal with the other problems he was currently sporting.

Determined, Viktor stepped out of the shower rooms. His hair was still slightly damp, but he didn’t pay it any mind. They were going to Chris’ place and Chris had seen him in far worse conditions.

Yuuri was already ready, his hair messy, wearing his comfortable clothes again. Viktor wanted to smile in relief. He might not have been able to deal with it as well if Yuuri kept on wearing tight clothes like he had during their dance session. This was good, Viktor reasoned, comfortable. He knew this Yuuri, knew this big ball of softness.

He could do this.

Nevertheless, he still took a deep breath to calm his nerves and lingering thoughts, before finally speaking. “Ready?” he asked Yuuri, who was immersed in his phone.

Yuuri looked up, pocketing the phone. “Of course. Are you feeling a bit better?”

Viktor nodded, realizing he meant it. He felt better – at least about the entire Alex debacle. “I do,” he said as they left the practice room. “I am not angry at Alex anymore.”

“Good,” Yuuri hummed. “I’m glad you finally decided to let that anger go.”

“Me too,” Viktor agreed.

They got a taxi outside the building, stuffing themselves into the backseats. They talked mainly small talk, showing each other funny videos and adorable pictures of dogs on their phones. It was as it always had been.

(And Viktor ignored the painful tugs at his heart, pushing it away.)

Viktor paid for the ride, ignoring Yuuri’s protests. “You always give us free food,” he reasoned and that seemed to be a good enough reason for Yuuri to stop his protesting.

“Fine,” Yuuri huffed as they walked towards the main entrance of the building that housed Chris’ apartment. “But I’ll pay next time.”

“Of course.”

A sound came from the little speaker next to the door, alerting them that they could enter the building. Viktor walked in front, knowing the place better than Yuuri. Come to think of it, Yuuri probably hadn’t been to Chris’ apartment yet. They usually hung out at the studio when they were all together as it lay relatively central for each of them.

The apartment lay on the second floor and together they walked up the few flights of stairs. They could have taken the elevator, but the thing was old and gave Viktor the creeps, so he usually took the stairs. Yuuri didn’t seem to mind.

The door to the apartment was already ajar and Viktor could hear the excited voice that belonged to Phichit. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips – their drummer seriously was a special cookie, in a good way.

“Hey guys,” Viktor said when he pushed the door open and stepped inside the apartment. He frowned, a fraction of a second disoriented. The furniture had been moved around, the couch and comfy chairs now facing the tv on the brick wall. A grand collection of movies and games were displayed in front of the DVD-player and game console. The dining table had been pushed to the side, drinks and food already placed on it. Viktor smirked at the sight of alcoholic beverages, ranging from scotch and vodka to the brightest coloured cocktails he had ever seen. “Are you expecting an entire army?” he asked Chris after greeting both him and Phichit, nodding towards the table.

Chris laughed and shook his head. “I just cleared out my cabinets and Phichit brought some as well. Apparently, it isn’t a proper movies night without pink cocktails.”

“That’s because it isn’t,” Phichit said happily. “You can ask Yuuri.”

Yuuri just shrugged. “I’d suggest you just go with it,” he said as he plopped down in front of the DVDs and games, flicking through them. “Phichit will nag at you until you take it.”

“Yuuri-kun, you wound me! I never nag,” Phichit pouted dramatically, causing the other three boys to laugh.

Phichit and Yuuri decided on playing on the game console first, deciding on one of the many Call of Duty games.

Viktor moved to the kitchen, looking at the two younger boys gaming over the bar-like countertop. Chris followed him, handing Viktor a drink. It was clear, but the smell was strong enough for Viktor to guess the content. He snickered. “Really? Vodka already? What happened to a nice glass of soda to start the afternoon?”

“I thought about it,” Chris admitted, “but then I saw you having your knickers in a twist, hypothetically speaking, of course.” He took a sip of his drink and Viktor followed the example.

The liquor burned down his throat, familiar and strangely comforting. It reminded him of the night Chris and he had talked about how to get Yuuri on board. That had been months ago now, a night they didn’t mention anymore. Viktor had never expressed it properly, he didn’t need to with Chris, but he was grateful for Chris to always have his back.

He didn’t respond to Chris, not immediately at least. Instead his gaze went back to the source of his internal conflict. Yuuri was aggressively pushing buttons on the controller in his hand, laughing and screaming at Phichit. It seemed they were playing against each other, making it a sport to kill the other as often as possible. If the scores on the screen were anything to go by, Phichit was kicking Yuuri’s ass.

“I know that look,” Chris said softly, bringing Viktors attention back.

“It’s nothing,” Viktor muttered. If only he truly believed so himself.

Chris tutted disapprovingly. “It isn’t nothing, Viktor. I see the way you look at him. That isn’t _nothing_.”

“What do you want me to say then?” Viktor snapped, suddenly irritated. “That I want to bend our vocalist over and have my way with him until he can’t walk properly anymore?”

Chris raised an eyebrow and shrugged, unbothered by the bluntness. “Not exactly how I would have said it.”

His irritation deflated and Viktor sighed, taking another generous gulp of his vodka. “I’m sorry, Chris. I had no reason to respond so agitated.”

“I understand,” Chris said sympathetically. “What are you going to do about it?”

“Go clubbing, fuck a random dude, get it out of my system – something like that.”

“That doesn’t exactly sound like something you would do. Not anymore, at least.”

“What choice do I have, Chris?” Viktor asked, his voice suddenly soft and fragile. “I can’t feel that way for _him_. We are at the point of our debut. You know what happened to the guys from _No Space_.”

No Space had been a promising band a few years ago, even making it as far as their debut – and their debut had been _good_. There were tours planned, a second album already in the making. The guys were good, their looks even better – they should have been the next boyband that would take over the world. That was, if the incident hadn’t happened. The vocalist of the band had been a little bit too friendly with both of the guitarists and they had trusted the wrong people.

Viktor still vividly remembered the tabloids filled with pictures of the trio, their bare bodies barely concealed behind thin sheets. Yakov, understandably, had been livid. All upcoming events were canceled, and the second album never came.

No Space had been brutally removed from the company, every trace of them wiped clean.

Viktor didn’t want to risk making the same mistake.

“Besides,” he continued, more to himself than to Chris, “it is just some stupid infatuation. I’ll get over it.”

Chris looked at him, his face unreadable, before moving to grab the bottle of vodka and pouring more into their glasses. “If you say so,” he muttered, obviously unconvinced.

Viktor took another sip, the liquor hot in his throat. The vodka itself was good, probably one of the better brands out there. He appreciated it, the alcohol reminding him of him.

It left a bittersweet taste in his mouth.

“He can’t know,” he said all of a sudden.

Chris chuckled, the sound low and rumbling. “As if I would tell him. We might be in a band, but you are still my best friend, Viktor.” He moved the glass around, the clear liquid almost tipping over the edge. “Do you think Yakov suspects anything?”

Viktor groaned. “I think he suspected something from the moment we brought Yuuri in. Remember when he asked me to stay behind, after the night we celebrated a bit too enthusiastically?” Chris nodded. “He told me, and I quote: ‘ _The band comes before everyone and everything_ ’. I guess that should have been my cue, but I choose to ignore it.”

“Damn,” Chris sighed. “Yakov can be so damn perceptive sometimes. Probably why his company is the best out there.”

Viktor shrugged, drinking the rest of the vodka in one swig. “It doesn’t matter,” he said, “I won’t make a move on him anyway. Like I said, it’s just a silly infatuation. You know how I get around cute people.”

“You fall in love too easily,” Chris chuckled, but the sound was hollow. They both knew the many times Viktor had come home crying because he had been rejected, thinking he had found the love of his life. He never had.

_So naive._

“It wasn’t love,” Viktor countered, holding up his glass again for Chris to fill it, “but _lust_. There’s a difference.”

“Not for your horny adolescent ass.”

Viktor laughed. “Perhaps not,” he agreed, smirking. He averted his gaze again, looking over to the flat screen on the wall. Yuuri was still aggressively pushing the buttons on his controller, Phichit laughing and yelling beside him. It seemed they were playing together now, instead of against each other.

“Hey, Viktor?”

Viktor’s gaze snapped back to Chris and he raised his eyebrow questioningly. “Yes?”

“We’ll figure it out, okay?”

Viktor smiled, grateful once again for Chris to be his friend. “I know.”

“Good, now let’s go join the younger ones and enjoy our night.” Chris held up his glass and Viktor did the same, following Chris to the living area.

Viktor sat down in one of the comfy chairs, his glass in his hand.

“ _Fuck_ , Yuuri, you have to go left! Kill it, _kill it!_ ” Phichit screamed, pushing the buttons on the controller with impressive agility.

“ _I am_ ,” Yuuri said through gritted teeth, “but these – ah _fuck_!” He practically threw the controller next to him when the words _YOU LOSE_ appeared on the screen.

“We were _this_ close,” Phichit whined, laying the controller next to him.

“Give it to me,” Chris motioned towards one of the controllers. “Give the other one to Viktor. We’ll show you how it is done.”

“You do realize I haven’t played this game in ages?” Viktor asked as he took the controller Yuuri handed him.

“We played this game enough throughout college. You’ll be fine.”

True to Chris’ words, Viktor wasn’t half that bad. It took him a little bit to get back into the game, but after playing a couple of rounds his hands fell into the once familiar movements. They guided each other, yelling whenever they had to watch out or kill something. Even Phichit and Yuuri pinched in here and there, groaning in unison whenever it seemed they were losing again.

They did lose eventually and rotated teams for a little while. They got better with each round, but eventually the game started to bore them, and they decided on playing something else.

The rest of the afternoon was spent like that, playing different games, until their stomachs started to rumble.

“I’ll order some pizza,” Chris announced, getting his phone and calling the Italian restaurant that was housed nearby. “Should I just order a few?” he asked, the phone already against his ear. Viktor could vaguely hear the familiar greetings of the restaurant.

“As long as there is no pineapple on it, we’re good,” Phichit shrugged, not even looking up from his phone.

“Agreed,” Yuuri nodded. “Just get us something.”

Chris nodded and moved to the kitchen area, greeting whoever was on the other line far too enthusiastically.

“That reminds me!” Phichit suddenly said, looking at Viktor. “Have I ever showed you that video of Yuuri dancing I mentioned once?”

“No?” Viktor said, at exactly the same time Yuuri gasped audibly.

Phichit snickered, completely ignoring the protests coming from his best friend and moved over to hand Viktor his phone. “I came by this one a few days ago – it’s an absolute gem.”

“For the love of God, Viktor, don’t watch it,” Yuuri practically begged, trying to get the phone back. “I have no idea _which_ video he is showing you, but they are never good.”

“So there are more videos?” Viktor asked, intrigued. He held the phone above his head, out of Yuuri’s reach.

Yuuri seemed determined, however, almost crawling atop of Viktor’s lap in order to grab the phone. “ _No_ ,” he said through gritted teeth, his hand not even coming close to where Viktor held the phone. “I told Phichit to delete all those videos and he said he did.”

“I did,” Phichit hummed, “but I didn’t delete the backups I have.”

“I – _what_?” Yuuri seemed to forget he was still half atop of Viktor, one knee still on the couch, the other planted in-between Viktors legs, his torso almost pushing against Viktors. He twisted his head, his attention no longer on the phone, but on his best friend instead. “You _betrayed_ me?”

Viktor laughed at the ridiculous situation developing in front of him. “I’d run, Phichit,” he advised, grinning like an idiot. “Yuuri might kill you.”

“No,” Yuuri said, climbing off of Viktor’s lap and stalking towards Phichit. “I will _definitely_ kill him.” He practically jumped atop of Phichit, effectively throwing them off the couch and onto the rug that lay on the ground. Phichit screamed bloody murder, trying to get away, but Yuuri held him in place.

“ _Nooooo_ ,” Phichit whined loudly, “not the infamous death by the hands of Katsuki Yuuri!”

“ _Yesssss_ ,” Yuuri imitated in the same annoying tone. “Get ready for death by tickles.” His hands attacked Phichit’s side without mercy, causing the youngest to burst out into giggles as he tried to wiggle free.

Viktor laughed the loudest of them all while taking the opportunity to watch the video that had started the entire commotion.

Three seconds in and he already wished he hadn’t.

Yuuri wasn’t exactly dressed properly and seemed to be intoxicated. He could have handled that image, if not for the fact Yuuri had started to dance around a silver pole. Yuuri pole danced – and he did it good.

Viktor swallowed, unable to look away from the video. Yuuri swung around the pole with ease, his body language suggestive, and Viktor felt something in his body stir.

 _Fuck_.

He quickly clicked the video away, unable to look at it any longer. It was pure torture, especially after today. He wanted to groan and bang his head against the wall. Why did this world hate him so much sometimes?

“Okay, okay! I give up, you big meanie.” he heard Phichit say, bringing his attention back to the situation in front of him. Yuuri was just releasing the youngest and standing up. Phichit locked eyes with Viktor, smirking knowingly. “I sincerely hope you did watch it though, since I do have to erase it now.”

“I did,” Viktor said, trying to hide his emotions.

“ _And_?”

“Fuck, if it was _that_ video you showed him, I will kill you again,” Yuuri threatened.

“It was… _interesting_ , let’s say that,” Viktor settled on with a smirk.

“Oh god,” Yuuri whined, burying his head in his hands, “it was _that_ video, wasn’t it?”

Phichit took his phone back, deleting the video. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Yuuri-kun,” he said with fake-innocence. “I have no videos of you dancing on my phone whatsoever.”

Yuuri threw him a look. “You really are the embodiment of Satan sometimes.”

“I take that as a compliment.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes. “Of course you do.”

It was at that moment that Chris walked back, stuffing his phone back into his pants. “Who got killed and why?”

“I’m innocent!” Phichit exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air.

Yuuri huffed. “Liar.”

“But I am! Viktor, tell Chris I am innocent.”

“I have no idea what you guys are talking about.”

“ _Traitor_ ,” Phichit hissed, but he was smirking.

“Phichit showed a video he shouldn’t have,” Yuuri said.

“Oh, was it the pole dancing video?”

Yuuri looked at Phichit, his look enough to kill someone. “ _Chris too?_ ”

“Don’t understand why you’re so fussy about it,” Chris said, sitting down in the chair again. “Your skills are no joke. If I would be half as good as you with pole dancing, I would’ve made it my profession.”

“I was _drunk_ ,” Yuuri muttered, but the look in his eyes had softened somewhat.

“Even the more impressive,” Chris hummed.

“See?” Phichit intervened. “No harm done. We still love you. Now can you please love your best friend back again instead of staring daggers at my head?”

“Have you deleted the videos?”

“I have, promise.”

“ _Fine_.”

Yuuri’s mood turned around almost immediately after that, joking and laughing with Phichit as they watched silly videos on their phones. He got his revenge by showing a video of a drunk Phichit who declared his love for some random girl – and got coldly rejected.

They decided on a movie not long after that, some kind of comedy they hadn’t seen before, starting it once the pizza had been delivered. They dived into the food, laughing along with the cringe-worthy scenes.

It was nice, Viktor realised, to hang out together like this. There was no pressure to perform, to have another recording session. It was just the four of them, laughing and bonding so easily.

They watched a second movie after the first one, a ridiculous romance, stopping it only to make popcorn and grab the even more ridiculous looking pink cocktails. Phichit sung along with all the songs he knew, his voice off-key as hell, though Viktor suspected he did that deliberately.

Somewhere during the night, Chris had grabbed some pillows and blankets, foreseeing the inevitable. It was during their third movie – Viktor couldn’t even remember what it was about – when they started to fall asleep, their bodies tired and full and their minds fuzzy and happy.

Viktor was dozing off, enjoying the feeling of warmth and satiety, when he felt a hand nudge his own. He was sitting in the chair with his knees up, the blanket draped over him. One of his hands – the one that was now being nudged – was laying on the armrest of the couch.

He opened his eyes, looking for whatever it was that was disturbing his sleep. It turned out to be Yuuri. The vocalist was bundled up in his own blankets, laying on his side, rolled up like a ball. His eyes, however, were focused on Viktor and his hand was gently nudging Viktors.

“Yuuri?” Viktor whispered, softly nudging back.

Yuuri didn’t say anything for a while, but he did grasp Viktors hand, entwining their fingers. They lay there like that for an unknown amount of time, Viktor hyperaware of the stammering of his heart against his ribcage.

“I’m scared,” Yuuri whispered suddenly, his eyes still locked with Viktor’s.

“Of what?” Viktor asked, adjusting his position slightly so he could look at Yuuri better.

“Of debuting. What if I fuck up?”

Viktor squeezed their entwined hands gently, hoping to calm the younger down. “You won’t,” he whispered confidentially.

“How do you know?”

Viktor shrugged, realising too late it was probably too dark for Yuuri to see. “You’re amazing,” he said, as if it was a given. “Your voice is amazing. Yakov wouldn’t let us debut if he didn’t think we’d have a chance.”

Yuuri didn’t answer immediately and Viktor could see the internal struggle – though he didn’t know what the struggle was about. But he waited, gently running his thumb across the smooth skin of Yuuri’s hand, trying to comfort the younger.

“If I ever were to fuck up,” Yuuri whispered, his voice small and vulnerable, “will you stay by my side?”

“Always,” Viktor answered immediately, squeezing their entwined hands again.

“Promise?” Yuuri asked and Viktor could see how sleep was slowly taking over. His eyes were starting to get glossy, his body calmer.

“Promise,” he said, squeezing Yuuri’s hand one last time before closing his eyes as well.

He kept on holding to Yuuri’s hand as he slept, not once letting go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we are! I am so sorry it has taken me this long to update. University is already kicking my butt and I literally had to sit down one night and finish up this chapter. And then it turned into this beast that is even longer than Eye of the Storm is, so yeah. I personally prefer longer chapters, so I hope you guys enjoyed this one too.
> 
> At least Viktor - fucking finally - understands he feels something for Yuuri, but our naive boy blames it on his lack of sexual action. Ah, poor boy. But it isn't a called a slowburn for nothing, I suppose.
> 
> The next update will probably take just as long - of not longer. As I said, uni is really taking up a lot of my time, but I try to write whenever I can. Your comments and kuddos always help me though and I really, from the bottom of my heart, love and appreciate them!
> 
> Thank you for whoever is still reading this and I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it.
> 
> See you next chapter!


	9. Hard to love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _You showed me that I was just a diamond in the rough  
>  You helped me to grow into the man that I've become  
> We've been down, we've been up  
> I hope I've made you proud enough  
> You make it look easy even when I'm hard to love_
> 
> Hard to love - One OK Rock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing but my mistakes and imagination.

Viktor was dreaming.

It wasn’t a nasty dream, but it wasn’t exactly a happy one either. The colours were muted, bordering on the edge of greys, blacks, and whites. The trees surrounding him were dead, their leaves dry and colourless on the ground, crunching beneath his feet. The sun wasn’t shining, at least not visibly, the sky tinted a dark grey, mocking him.

It was as if he was suddenly completely colour blind.

He was walking, his feet dragging him somewhere he didn’t know. The further he walked, the less colours there were, the greys fading away. It was silent, apart from the leaves underneath his bare feet. He couldn’t feel it, as this was a dream, but he could _imagine_ it. How the twigs would scratch and tear his skin, smearing droplets of blood on the already dead leaves.

“Viktor.”

He turned around instantly, his eyes falling on Yuuri immediately. The world around them was completely black and white – so, _so_ empty – but Yuuri was in colour. Viktor could see the slight tint on his cheeks, the redness in his lips, and the darkest of browns in his eyes. Yuuri was so beautiful and it hurt. It hurt inside Viktor’s heart, inside his head, inside his soul.

“Why?” his dream-self muttered, undoubtedly speaking the thoughts he usually kept hidden underneath layers of fake smiles. “Why does it have to be _you_?”

Yuuri smirked, taking the steps needed to close the gap between them. He was the shortest of the two of them, but he tugged on Viktor’s chin anyway, forcing Viktor to look at him. “Life is cruel, Vitya,” he whispered, his pupils dilating. “ _Love_ is cruel.”

And as Yuuri pressed his lips on Viktor’s – something he couldn’t even feel, just as he hadn’t been able to feel the earth underneath his feet – the world came crashing down around them.

Burning, scorching hot fire burned around them, the flames an angry red, engulfing Yuuri and pulling him away from Viktor. Yuuri was still smirking as his body seemed to drown in the flames.

Viktor wanted to scream, to run – but he couldn’t find his voice and his legs were unable to move. He could only watch in horror as Yuuri disappeared, becoming one with the redness of the flames.

 

A hand on his cheek woke him, the feeling both familiar and disorienting. Another hand was holding his own hand, the skin smooth and warm against his own.

“ _Vitya_.”

His name grounded him, jerking him away from the remnants of his dream. As he opened his eyes, he was met with the worried eyes that belonged to Yuuri.

His breath caught in his throat.

It was still dark outside, a quick glance at the clock on the wall telling him it was nearing four in the morning, and he could hear the soft and gentle snoring from Chris and the heavy and even breathing from Phichit.

Yuuri was still holding his hand, but he was standing in front of Viktor now, the blanket carelessly laying on the floor, forming a puddle of pure fluffiness around his bare feet. His other hand was on Viktors cheek, gently stroking over the sharp cheekbone.

“Vitya,” he whispered again, and Viktor snapped his gaze away from their band members, looking back into Yuuri’s concerned gaze. “Were you having a nightmare?”

Viktor furrowed his brows in confusion, the remains of the dream still clearly visible in his mind. It was why Viktor detested dreams, honestly. They could be beautiful, no doubt about that, but they had mastered the art of displaying your deepest fears and desires. Dreams would twist the fears and desires, making them the most beautiful cruelty you had ever experienced. Dreams betrayed you like that, hiding the beauty you so desperately craved in a thick layer of pain.

He nodded, using his free hand to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

“You want to talk about it?” Yuuri asked softly, sitting down on the armrest of the couch, dropping his hand from Viktors. The hand came to rest on Viktor’s leg, though Viktor wasn’t sure whether the action was conscious or unconscious. All he knew was that he was far too aware of the hand gently squeezing his thigh, Yuuri’s thumb drawing soothing circles.

Perhaps reality was just as cruel as his dreams were.

He sighed and let his head fall back against the back of the chair. “You died,” he said, giving no further explanation.

Yuuri held his gaze, his pupils dark and blown due to the lack of light, but it reminded Viktor of the Yuuri in his dream. The Yuuri that had kissed him.

(And a traitorous part of him wondered what it would feel like.)

“I’m still here though,” Yuuri muttered eventually, lifting their entwined hands and placing a soft kiss on Viktor’s knuckles. “See? I’m still here.”

Viktor knew it was meant to be reassuringly, but he couldn’t help the way his body stiffened upon feeling Yuuri’s lips against his skin – softer and warmer than he’d imagined. The contact was short – _too short_ – and it left him wanting, aching, _needing_.

“Yeah,” Viktor whispered, unsure what to say, too afraid his body might betray him. He was tired, his mind confused; he wasn’t in the best state to think coherently. It was best, for both of them, if he said as little as possible.

Yuuri looked at him, the concern still on his face, before he moved to grab the blanket and started pushing at Viktor.

“Wha--”

“Move over,” Yuuri hissed, and Viktor was too surprised to object, instead sliding further into the corner of the chair.

Before Viktor’s sleep-induced brain could comprehend what was happening, Yuuri had planted himself on the chair, snuggling partially underneath Viktor’s blanket and partially underneath his own. His head was resting against Viktor’s chest, their legs somewhat awkwardly, though not uncomfortably, entwined.

“I’m here,” Yuuri breathed, gently moving his arm around Viktor’s waist. “I’ll always be here, Vitya.”

It was the cruellest reality, both blissful and pure agony.

But his mind was foggy, his body in need of warmth and love, and Viktor allowed himself to bask in this moment. They hadn’t officially debuted yet – he could still do this. He snuck his arm around Yuuri, pulling the younger closer to his chest, and breathed in. Yuuri smelled like he always did, like that particular flowery shampoo he used and that husky aftershave. It was a comforting smell, not too overpowering, but gentle enough that it prickled his senses. It smelled like _home_.

He breathed out slowly, allowing himself to get comfortable. The chair was on the big side, but it was obvious it wasn’t meant to seat two people. As a result, Yuuri was pressed up against him, but for some reason, it didn’t feel strange at all. It felt almost normal to have the younger flushed against him like this, their breathings evening out and their heartbeat slowly synchronizing.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his body at the brink of sleep again, clutching Yuuri close against me.

The younger muttered something incoherently, but Viktor could feel how Yuuri’s hold tightened and that was enough.

A vague smile stayed on his lips as he fell asleep, dreaming peacefully.

~

Viktor awoke a few hours later, his feet freezing to death.

As it turned out, Yuuri was still snuggled up against him, but he had snatched both blankets away, covering his body underneath the fluffy material, leaving Viktor’s feet bare.

Well, that explained his feet feeling like they had been dumped in a bucket of ice.

Viktor smirked, using his free arm to wiggle a bit of the blankets free so he could cover his feet.

“Infatuation, _my ass_.”

Viktor looked up in confusion, his eyes falling on Chris. The Swiss sat in the chair he had slept in, his blonde hair damp from a shower, glasses perked on his nose as he read a newspaper. A cup of coffee stood beside him, steam slowly rising from it.

“Fuck,” Viktor groaned. He hadn’t wanted anyone to see this, but of course Chris had to wake up before them.

“ _Whipped_ ,” Chris muttered, eyeing Viktor out of the corner of his eyes.

“I’m not,” Viktor countered, slowly wiggling his body free from Yuuri’s hold. The younger muttered something in his sleep, his brows furring together as he unconsciously tightened his grip around Viktor.

Chris raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

Viktor tried his best to loosen Yuuri’s grip, to wiggle himself free, but it was no use. The more he moved, the tighter Yuuri held him. He sighed in defeat, slumping back into the chair.

“ _Whipped_ ,” Chris muttered again as he took a sip from his coffee.

Viktor threw him a look.

Eventually, he managed to wiggle himself free from the death grip, draping the blankets over Yuuri’s sleeping body.

Yuuri looked peaceful, his face that typical type of blankness one only had whenever they were asleep. His hands gripped the blankets, holding them closer to his body. The sight was enough to feel like stab in Viktor’s heart.

“I’m going to take a shower,” he mumbled, tearing his gaze away from Yuuri’s sleeping form. He purposefully didn’t look at Chris – _too scared, too afraid_ – and moved towards the bathroom.

The water was warm and comforting, as it always was, and Viktor sighed loudly, the sound vibrating against the walls.

_Infatuation, my ass…_

The words kept on repeating in his head, over and over until they started morphing together into an incomprehensible mess. They kept repeating themselves, even when the words weren’t words anymore, but merely feelings that raced through his body.

Viktor felt it in his veins, that undeniable feeling he had felt very few times before. A dangerous feeling, a feeling that could break everything he had so desperately tried to build. He shouldn’t be thinking this nor feeling whatever he was feeling right now. He knew that – he wasn’t that stupid. Naïve maybe, but not stupid.

But feelings never listened. You might be able to fool your head, but you weren’t able to fool your heart. Feelings didn’t work that way. They just… _flowed._

Feelings simply happened, allowed one to be human. It made you respond the way you did, like the things you enjoyed, hate the things you detested. Feelings allowed you to be empathic, to be happy, to be excited. Feelings could also make you sad or angry and allow you to grieve.

Ignoring your feelings was never a good idea.

_Karma was a bitch._

Viktor knew that – he had experienced before what ignoring feelings could do with someone. Bottling all the unanswered feelings he had when he had still been living at home had never done him any good. They had pushed him over the edge, had made him flee to a goddamn different country. He had been scared and _hurt_ and those feelings were still there, hidden behind that fucking wall he liked to build higher and higher.

Yakov had scolded him for it once, not too long ago. “ _You’re your own worst enemy,_ ” he had said, his face stern and unhappy. Viktor had tried brushing it off – as he always did – but he hadn’t been able to fool Yakov; not this time.

“ _Feelings are human, Vitya. Don’t end up like me._ ”

It hadn’t been the first time Yakov had mentioned something like that, but it had been the first time Viktor had _actually_ listened. Yakov was like an uncle to him, the parental figure in his life he never properly had. Their manager might be stoic and harsh, but underneath all that was a man that _cared_. Yakov cared for his people, in a way only Yakov could care. It wasn’t your typical ‘fuzzy’ type of caring, filled with hushed words and warm hugs – it wasn’t like that at all. But Yakov’s words of wisdom, brought like they were poison, were a form of caring Viktor found comforting. It might not be the type of love and care the child in him craved, but it was a type of care the adult in him needed.

Viktor was aware he could be a big baby sometimes, pouting and batting his eyelashes in the hopes of getting what he wanted. Yakov saw through that – he always had, chastising Lilia whenever she was about to give in. They didn’t always see eye to eye, but Yakov pushed Viktor just the right way. It made Viktor want to work harder, to do better, to _be_ better. It was why Viktor had started composing songs, after all. It had been a way to vent feelings without actually talking about them and for once in his life, he had been _good_ at something.

He could still remember the first time had had composed a song, dropping the demo on Yakov’s desk. Yakov had listened, not saying a word and it had been the most nerve-wrecking moments of his life (up until then, of course). And then, Yakov had smiled, _actually_ smiled. “ _This is good, Vitya. There might still be hope for you._ ”

It had been the start of an unspoken agreement, in which Viktor wrote whatever he liked, _whenever_ he liked, and Yakov turning a blind eye, helping Viktor in subtle ways neither of them ever mentioned. It was a relationship built on mutual trust and respect, and perhaps also on the mutual need for something akin to family.

That particular demo had stayed just that: a demo, hidden underneath layers and layers of dust and newer demos. It was probably still laying around somewhere in their studio.

Viktor had the sudden urge to find that demo and listen to it.

He sighed again and let his head fall back. The water raced over his face, almost uncomfortably hot, but Viktor payed it no mind. It was the type of hot where it bordered on the line between pleasant and pain, but where it allowed you to shut your mind down. It was that type of hot where it became the only thing you could feel or think about, as if it literally burned your brains.

For uncounted minutes, Viktor stayed where he was, eyes closed, mind blank. It was immensely blissful.

Such a shame he couldn’t stay in the shower forever.

He dragged himself out of the shower eventually, albeit reluctantly, grabbing towels from the small open closet that stood in the corner. He dried himself quickly and got dressed again, giving himself a quick look in the mirror (he looked for more presentable than he felt, if he was honest) before walking back into the living room.

Yuuri had moved to the couch, still hiding underneath the blankets, but he was awake and laughing sleepily at a video Phichit showed on his phone, the laugh low and hoarse, laced with the last remnants of sleep. Chris still sat in the chair, sipping another cup of coffee and watching news on the television. Chris had always been far more interested in what was going on in the outside world.

“Morning,” Viktor muttered, closing the door that led to the hallway behind him.

“Morning,” Phichit mumbled back, his voice groggy with sleep but smiling far too brightly for someone that looked more asleep than awake.

Yuuri looked up from the phone and smiled warmly. “Hey,” he said, his voice soft and a little hoarse. It was almost endearing.

“Sleep well?” Phichit asked as he pushed himself upright a bit. The shirt he was wearing was too big on him, hanging loose on his small frame and Viktor realized it was a shirt from Chris. He raised his eyebrow but decided not to comment on it – he tended to borrow clothes from Chris as well whenever he slept over.

Instead, he moved to the kitchen area, grabbing a cup from the cabinet and making himself some coffee. “I did,” he answered Phichit, raising his voice a bit so they could hear him over the grinding of the beans. The aroma of good coffee filled his nose. “You?”

“I was out cold,” Phichit laughed and the others laughed with him, remembering the soft snoring sounds he had made.

The morning was spent much like that, easy and comfortable, with Phichit and Yuuri taking their turns in the shower and Chris going over some important things with Viktor. The two of them had moved to the dining table, looking at the schedule Chris had opened on his laptop, while commenting here and there on some events. Phichit had turned on the game console again, playing one of the many Mario games as he waited for Yuuri to finish has shower. Every now and then he would look up when he heard something that piqued his interest, commenting something before going back to saving Princess Peach.

“We have to meet with Greg today,” Viktor pointed out as he looked at their schedule.

“In about two hours or so,” Chris nodded. “I texted him this morning, telling him we wouldn’t be in before lunchtime.”

“You’re sure you don’t want to be the leader of the group?” Viktor joked half-heartedly, earning him a laugh from Chris and a muffled snicker from Phichit. While it was true that they had decided on him being the leader, Chris tended to be in charge of the important business, such as their schedules, dates and such.

It was how it always had been. Chris had been the one to plan out things for high school – and later for college. He would text Viktor important dates they shouldn’t forget or call Viktor whenever he was late for class _again_. Viktor, in turn, did most of the composing for their projects and the presentations. He might not be great with remembering things, but he could _talk_. Whenever he was in front of a group of people, he would simply smile and easily work his way through whatever it was he had to do. It was the same with the handful of interviews they had done. Viktor spoke the most, his answered refined and blissfully empty. He told those reporters whatever they wanted to hear, decorating his words with beautiful nothings and vague promises.

It might be a somewhat strange arrangement to some, but for them, it worked.

Chris shrugged. “You know I don’t mind doing this.”

“I know,” Viktor hummed, grabbing the coffee that stood beside him (his second of the day) and sipped. One of the perks of staying at Chris’ was the exquisite coffee. “What else is important?”

“We have an interview at the end of the week.” Chris pointed at a yellow coloured block at was scheduled on Friday. “And some promotion stuff, I believe, but Yakov would mail us about that.”

Viktor nodded, tightening his grip around his mug. “It really is going to happen now, isn’t it?” he asked tentatively.

Chris sighed and closed the laptop. “It is.”

“It scares me,” Viktor admitted, smiling sheepishly. It was such a surreal feeling. He had worked most of his life towards this goal, towards his actual debut – and now it was mere days away.

“I think it scares _all_ of us,” came to soft reply from the couch. Phichit had paused his game and was sitting upright, his body twisted so he could face them properly. “I mean, what if we fail?”

“Then we just had a good time and go back to whatever it is we have degrees in,” Chris shrugged.

Phichit pulled a face. “I know that degree cost me a fortune, but I really would like to never use it again.”

“Guess we just have to make sure we don’t fail.”

Viktor snickered. “Sure, easy, no pressure.”

“You’re the leader,” Phichit pointed out as he started his game again, though he wasn’t paying as much attention to it anymore. It was obvious with the insane amounts of time Mario died in a matter of seconds. “You’re supposed to make us believe in ourselves.”

“Phichit, when have I ever made you doubt us?”

Phichit threw him a look, whining when Mario died _yet again_ , and furiously tapped a few buttons on the controller. “Remember that time when Alex quit on us and I had to drag your sorry asses out of hiding?”

Viktor made a somewhat strangled noise. That night hadn’t exactly been his best night. “Point taken,” he muttered, earning an amused snort from Chris.

That particular night felt like ages ago, even though it were only a few months. It had been a strange night, but it had led them to Yuuri – something Viktor was eternally grateful for.

Speaking of Yuuri, the vocalist walked into the room, his hair still wet from the shower and wearing a clean shirt Chris had lend him. It was far too big on his smaller frame, but he had tucked it in his jeans, topping it off with a belt he seemed to wear occasionally. It should have looked ridiculous, but somehow, Yuuri _always_ looked good in clothes like this. Viktor wanted to huff in annoyance – if he would try a style like that, he would look like an overgrown bean.

“Hey,” Yuuri smiled, moving to the kitchen to make himself some tea. Viktor found it funny how they all pranced around the place like they owned it, even though Phichit and Yuuri didn’t come here often – or hadn’t been here once before last night in Yuuri’s case. “What are we talking about?” he asked, pouring hot water into the obnoxiously big and pink cup he had found.

“How Phichit is butchering the game,” Chris snorted. “Seriously, how many times can you let Mario _die_?”

“Apparently far more often than I thought,” Phichit shrugged.

Yuuri chuckled and grabbed his mug, sitting down on the chair at the head of the dining table. “When we were in our first year, we bought an old Wii from a second-hand shop, along with some games. One of them was Super Mario Bros.”

“Oh, _no_ ,” Chris said, hiding the already forming giggle behind his hand.

“Oh, _yes_ ,” Yuuri laughed. “We died so many times, it wasn’t even funny even more.”

“Didn’t we all?” Viktor asked. “I mean, I think we broke a controller once because of that game.”

“Guilty,” Chris shrugged.

“How did you manage to break a Wii controller?”

“He threw it against a wall,” Viktor explained. “Have you seen those biceps, Yuuri? Those arms are _strong_. The poor controller never stood a chance.”

Yuuri raised an eyebrow and experimentally poked against Chris’ arm. “Yep, rock-hard. Remind me to never piss you off.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Chris laughed. “What if you run away? We can’t have Phichit dragging our sorry asses out of the house _again_. Once was more than enough.”

“The feeling is mutual,” Phichit grumbled from the couch. “It took me almost an hour to convince Chris to come that night -- _argh_ , just _die you idiot_!” he screeched, aggressively pressing the buttons on the controller. Said idiot – Bowser – didn’t die though and Phichit slumped back in defeat. “I lost my touch,” he muttered.

“I don’t even want to know what touch you’re talking about.” Yuuri scrunched his nose in fake-horror.

Phichit threw the controller aside and tutted. “Don’t worry, Yuuri-kun, that’s for me to know and for you to _never_ find out.” He plopped down beside Yuuri, the chair protesting weakly underneath him. “But really, Yuuri, never leave us. I can’t bare through that entire ordeal again.”

“It was _one_ night,” Viktor tried defending himself.

“And it was the worst. You were dripping in self-pity.”

“And you weren’t?”

Phichit shook his head. “No, because I had a friend to cheer on. Can’t exactly cheer someone on when they perform when I feel like screaming all the time.”

“Fair point.”

“Did you guys also bicker this much with Alex?” Yuuri asked, sipping his tea. It smelled like honey and ginger, sweet and a little bit spicy.

Phichit shook his head, prying the cup out of Yuuri’s hand and taking a generous sip as well. His face scrunched up the way in disgust and he gave the cup back to Yuuri. “I don’t think we did,” he elaborated, wiping a drop of tea away from his lips. “Not when Alex was around, at least. It wasn’t bickering what we did, not the way we bicker now.”

“We bickered a bit in the very beginning,” Chris added. “But the bicker quickly changed to discussions and arguments.”

“I suppose that is mostly my fault,” Viktor sighed. “I expected Alex to be something he wasn’t. I don’t think it was fair to any of us.”

“Still haven’t heard from him then?” Yuuri asked.

Viktor shook his head. “No, but I think it’s for the best. Maybe in a couple of months we can meet up with him, make sure there is no bad blood between any of us. But we -- I don’t think I’m ready for that yet.”

Yuuri hummed. “I think that’s fair.”

“I think,” Chris said as he stood up and moved to the kitchen, turning on the coffee machine again, “we _all_ aren’t ready yet.” He grabbed the cups from the table, raising an eyebrow at Phichit, who simply nodded, and moved to make three new cups of coffee. “Alex wasn’t a bad guy and I even considered him a friend for a while. He just didn’t invest into the band the way we did. He could sing, but he couldn’t handle the rock-vibe.”

“Makes sense then, that he left.”

Chris nodded. “I don’t blame him for leaving. I blame him for leaving the way he did.” He placed a cup of coffee in front of both Viktor and Phichit and walked back to grab his own cup. “We were at the point of our debut, you know. If we wouldn’t have found you, we wouldn’t have been here at all.”

“Admit it,” Viktor mused, “you’re glad I stalked his ass.”

A chorus of laughing erupted and Viktor couldn’t help but laugh along.

“So, you _finally_ admit it then?”

“What, that I stalked you?”

“Yes.”

“I think it was fairly obvious I was stalking, don’t you think?”

Chris snorted. “Who in their right minds goes to the same restaurant every day to just order a glass of water.”

“Do you think he’d still be going there every day now if Yuuri hadn’t agreed?” Phichit asked thoughtfully, stirring his coffee absentmindedly.

“ _Yes_ ,” Chris and Yuuri said in unison at the same time Viktor exclaimed “ _No!_ ”

He glared at his bandmates, much to their amusement if the fits of laughter were anything to go by. “I _wouldn’t_ ,” he muttered, but it was obvious no one believed him. “Okay, maybe a little bit.”

“Just admit you enjoyed stalking his ass,” Phichit chuckled, his dark eyes glistening with mischief.

“Who wouldn’t,” Viktor shrugged, “he’s got a good ass.”

“ _Oh my god!_ ” Phichit nearly screamed in that particular high-pitched voice of his he used whenever he was too excited.

“Damn, Viktor,” Chris laughed, “keep your thirst to yourself man.”

“ _Don’t_ you dare say what I should do,” Viktor growled, kicking Chris against the sheens. “I remember you saying you didn’t mind stalking _his_ —” he pointed towards Phichit, “—ass either.”

Another high-pitched scream and multiple _oh my god_ ’s suddenly filled the room and Viktor suddenly felt sorry for Chris’ neighbours.

“Yes, yes,” Yuuri smirked when the laughing and screaming finally died down, “we’re all gays thirsting over each other. What else is new.”

“ _Excuse you_ ,” Phichit gasped, “I am bisexual.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes. “Fine, we’re all _bisexual_ gays thirsting over each other. Happy? Though in my opinion, you sounded extremely gay last weekend with that guy from your class.”

Viktor snorted undignified and Chris beside him did the same.

Phichit didn’t even look ashamed, that smug little shit. He simply looked Yuuri in the eye and shrugged. “That’s not what _she_ said the weekend before that.”

Yuuri stomped Phichit’s arm. “Liar.”

“How would you know?” Phichit pouted.

“I was with you that weekend, you idiot. You were crying over a Disney movie.”

“Haven’t we all?” Viktor asked, feigning innocence.

Chris nodded amusedly. “If you haven’t, you’re a heartless monster.”

“Guess I’m a heartless monster then,” Yuuri shrugged and Viktor _gasped_.

“ _No_.”

“Oh, _please_.” Phichit rolled his eyes. “How do you think he knew I was crying over a Disney movie? He was crying along with me.”

“ _Yuuri,_ ” Viktor pouted. “You lied to me.”

“Worth it though,” he grinned and suddenly Viktor saw that the duo called Yuuri and Phichit could be very dangerous. Their eyes glistened similar, light and twinkling. “You should have seen your face.”

“No respect for your elders, these days. Isn’t that supposed to be a huge thing in your culture?”

“You’re my _friend_ , Viktor, not my father.”

Phichit made a strangled noise, hiding a shit-eating grin behind his hand. “He _could_ be.”

Yuuri’s head whipped around so fast Viktor actually got concerned the vocalist might have gotten himself a whiplash. “For the love of God,” Yuuri muttered, eyes narrowing, “I don’t have a daddy kink.”

“Sure you don’t.”

“Can we not talk about my kinks -- assuming I’d have any, which I don’t.”

Phichit patted Yuuri’s arm. “It’s okay to have kinks, Yuuri-kun, we all have them.”

“ _I don’t want to hear about your kinks, Phichit_.”

They all laughed, except for Yuuri, who seemed uncharacteristically uncomfortable with the topic. Yuuri usually didn’t back down from topics like these, but Viktor sensed there was more to the story than they could see right now – and it was clear Yuuri wasn’t ready to share that side of him.

“I agree with Chris though,” Viktor spoke in the hope of silencing the laughter. “I think kinks are pretty normal, as long as both people in the relationship are comfortable with said kinks.”

It wasn’t like Viktor had very obvious kinks himself, but there were certain things he preferred. He liked to take control, liked to talk and praise, appreciated it when the other person fought back, giving him something to fight for.

There had been partners, fleeting as they may have been, that had touched upon certain kinks. While he hadn’t been able to enjoy every kink he had encountered, Viktor hadn’t been opposed to learning about them. In his eyes, it worked both ways when you shared a bed with someone. Unfortunately, not everyone shared that sentiment.

Yuuri eyed Viktor, his eyes glistening with something Viktor couldn’t comprehend. But Yuuri’s shoulders were less tense, his body visibly less uncomfortable. It made Viktor wonder – wonder about things that weren’t his to think about. It made him wonder about the beautiful pain stinging inside his chest, like the sun burning on pale skin during a particularly warm summer. It made him dream about hands, soft and warm, roaming around bare skin, touching, _feeling_ , oh so delicately.

The world was what you made of it, if you believed the ridiculous slogans plastered across far too many magazines. The world was yours to take and yours to make. As long as it didn’t kill you, it would make you stronger, apparently.

But all those slogans didn’t tell you there were boundaries. Thin, invisible lines that held you back and guided one back into the squares they belonged. The world was what you made of it yes, but only partly. Some things weren’t meant to be, hidden behind that thin veil of fake freedom.

Yuuri was one of those things for Viktor.

And the realization, suddenly so clear and _painful_ made his mouth dry and his heart ache. Because Viktor found he wouldn’t _mind_ learning about certain kinks – as long as it were kinks Yuuri had. He wouldn’t mind figuring it out along the way, learning from each other in the dark of the night through hushed whispers and tell-tale touches.

He wouldn’t _care_ giving up his need for control if it was what Yuuri desired, because seeing Yuuri smile was more important than his own need.

 _Infatuation, my ass_.

And oh, how Chris had been right. He had seen right through Viktor, seen the want and need Viktor tried to keep hidden. More importantly, Chris had seen the way Viktor’s heart was bleeding with love that could never be answered.

Because the thin veil fake of freedom wasn’t a thin veil in this case, but a big fat bold contract Viktor had signed years ago. A contract they had all signed – including Yuuri.

And of course, they could cower away behind hidden doors, like so many other at the agency did. They could hide it all, make every touch a forbidden sin, and hope they would never get caught by the cruel media that lurked outside. But… That wasn’t a life Viktor wanted; not for himself and not for Yuuri. And this was all assuming Yuuri felt the same way Viktor was currently feeling – something he doubted.

Their friendship had blossomed and grown over the months, thickened by shared experiences and love, challenged by hurdles in the road. And yet, they were still here, all four of them, laughing and loving in a way that only they could understand. Being in a band was like forming your own family, without the forged bond of blood.

Who was Viktor to assume Yuuri felt anything more than friendship?

He _wanted_ , in a way he hadn’t experienced before, but he didn’t want to risk their friendship or the band. They were just getting started, having barely dipped their toes into the cold and dark waters of fame, and Viktor wasn’t going to be the one to push them in and let them drown. He _refused_ ; he wasn’t that selfish.

The world was what you made of it, yes, but it was also as cruel as your deepest desires. It was cruel and dark and twisted, dangling your hopes and needs right in front of you, but too far away to grasp.

It might be melodramatic or downright unrealistic, but Viktor could _feel_ it, down to his very core. There was no denying anymore. No more hiding behind the layers of naïve façade, no more running away from the feelings that hunted him at night.

And it scared him, more than he’d like to admit. He could feel it in his chest, the angst clawing its way through his veins, racing through his terrified body with an agonizing speed.

He _liked_ Yuuri, in a way he hadn’t liked anyone in a very long time. He _wanted_ Yuuri, in a way his body hadn’t craved for far too long. There was no more lying to himself, no more shutting down the thoughts he feared.

Yuuri was still looking at him, his eyes that soft and warm brown Viktor had grown used to. People always said that eyes were the window to the soul and Viktor could see why. Yuuri’s eyes were drawing him in, calming him down and part of him wanted nothing more than to simply _give in_ – to close the distance between them and kiss Yuuri like they had in his silly nightmare.

He _wanted_ , more than he could properly explain. It had been a feeling he had ignored, hiding it away. But hiding something didn’t mean it wasn’t there. And the feelings had been there, slowly growing, like the roots of nature growing in a deserted city, claiming back what was originally hers.

And yet, Viktor would have to continue hiding the feeling, pushing it down into the deepest parts of his soul. Somehow, he would have to deal with what he felt and overcome it.

Viktor swallowed, trying to rid his throat of the dry feeling that suddenly resided there, but it helped only little. Chris and Phichit had continued the conversation, talking about some of the weirdest kinks they had encountered during their lives. Yuuri wasn’t joining the conversation, his attention solely on Viktor.

It made the insides of his gut turn and twist in an uncomfortable way.

He smiled, or tried at least, and shook his head. _Infatuation_ , he reminded himself, willing _everything_ to go away.

_It was nothing more than infatuation._

“Oh, shit,” Chris muttered, glancing at the clock on the wall. “We have that meeting with Greg in less than half an hour.” He stood up instantly, grabbing the mugs and bringing them to the kitchen.

They all stood as well, grabbing their bags and putting on their shoes. Phichit moved back to the living room to grab his phone, leaving Yuuri and Viktor alone in the small hallway.

Yuuri bumped Viktor’s shoulder gently. “Hey,” he muttered softly.

Viktor didn’t dare look it him, scared his face would betray his emotions. “Hey.” He winced – his voice sounded so _fragile_.

“Are you okay?”

A hand on his shoulder, gently pressing into the sore muscles, comforting him in that particular way Yuuri always seemed to comfort him. The fingertips pressed gently, the skin grazing over the bare skin of Viktors neck. “Why wouldn’t I be?” His voice sounded strange to his own ears, too small, too scared.

The fingers pressed harder into his shoulder, digging into the muscles, the thumb stroking over his collarbone. “I-- You…” Yuuri began, his voice almost a whisper. “You just… seemed out of it? We-- I was… _am_ worried about you.”

Viktor looked up. Call him naïve or stupid, or both, but he looked up anyway. Yuuri’s face unreadable, too many emotions visible in those dark irises. “I’m…” Viktor started, breath somewhat shaky. “I’m fine,” he said, but it sounded an awful lot like _I’m terrified_.

The fingers moved, trailing over his shoulder and neck, grazing that sensitive spot underneath his earlobe, before resting on his cheek. Warm, soft and gentle fingers that felt scorching hot against Viktors cold skin. “Okay,” Yuuri said, but it sounded like _I know_.

Viktor sighed, unconsciously leaning into the hand. Sometimes unspoken words were better than the actual spoken words. The truth was a strange thing; lies were beautiful deceptions.

He wanted to say more, to break the silence between them, but Phichit entered the hallway, causing them to both jolt away from each other.

They didn’t speak after that, busying themselves with leaving the apartment and getting on their way to the agency.

But Viktor was sure he didn’t imagine the soft fingers grazing his own calloused ones and the small smile Yuuri flashed him when the younger walked past him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're slowly getting there. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!
> 
> Not much to say this time, besides me thanking each and everyone of you that takes the time to read this, leaves kuddos on it or comments - It makes may day <3.
> 
> Until next chapter!


	10. One way ticket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _You know I'm no good  
>  No good at goodbyes  
> No good without you  
> Better by your side_
> 
> One way ticket - One OK Rock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing but my mistakes and imagination.

Life after that particular day became hectic.

In a way, Viktor enjoyed it. His days were filled with too many things in order for him to think about his problems, let alone panic about it. However, it also meant he had to supress whatever it was he was feeling, and he wasn’t sure whether he liked that.

Part of him wanted to hide away, bury all those feelings and confusing thoughts where he always buried everything he wasn’t ready to face. But another part of him – a part that was slowly growing, like those pretty looking weeds that were a bitch to get rid of – wanted to _show_ those feelings. He wasn’t planning on going to act on it, but he wanted to give Yuuri whatever the younger deserved.

And Yuuri deserved the world.

Yuuri wasn’t a greedy person in any way, but Viktor saw the way the younger basked in attention. It wasn’t a very typical reaction, as Yuuri tended to tense up a lot whenever there was unexpected physical contact, but underneath that was a serene calmness, one that Viktor found mesmerizing. And when the physical contact was expected or wanted… boy did Yuuri crave it, practically whining until he got what he wanted.

Yuuri was a very caring person – always touching and comforting the others. It could be silly things, like a gentle tap on the head, or more emotion-filled touches, where he hugged and held onto someone with all his might. Those were Viktor’s favourite hugs. Those embraces allowed him to bury his nose in the crook of Yuuri’s neck and breathe in that particular scent that was so typically _Yuuri_. It were those particular hugs that pushed Viktor over that thin line, pulling the younger closer to his chest, running his calloused fingers through those dark tresses.

The hectic schedule had its positive sides, though. Since they were al so busy _together_ , they bonded a lot, especially over late-night dinners in their studio. A second couch had been dragged in, courtesy of Phichit, and the four of them tended to stay over more often than not. The studio become a second home more and more with each passing day. Yakov had raised a rather annoyed eyebrow, but had stayed uncharacteristically silent on the matter.

Viktor couldn’t even remember the last time he had slept in his own bed, either staying at the studio or crashing at Chris’, since he lived closest to the studio out of all four of them.

The meeting with Greg had come and gone, going rather well – better than expected if Viktor was honest. It had been a productive meeting, and, in the end, they had given the green light, meaning their album was officially good to go.

It had been a strange but liberating feeling. The artwork for the cover had been approved and suddenly their album was _there_ , being released into the world. It was weird and nerve-wrecking, but also immensely rewarding. Not everyone enjoyed the album – not that they had expected that. Yakov had warned them beforehand to stay humble and rational.

But the response had been more than positive, with articles and magazines writing about it, and their band name trending on Twitter the entire day of the release. It was still a bit surreal.

They did not one, but three interviews after the launch, for different magazines as well as some short meetings with the nearby radio stations. The first week was _packed_ with things to do and Viktor had stopped worrying about anything after the second day.

The interviews had been fun and even though Viktor tended to talk the most, the rest gradually grew more comfortable with pitching in. The story about how Yuuri joined History Maker seemed to be a crowd-favourite and was something they were asked pretty much every interview. Other questions revolved more around their history, their band name and the handful of lives they had done.

Ah yes, the _lives_ …

On the nights they hadn’t had anything planned, Yakov had planned a mini concert at one of the venues nearby. Part of Viktor had wanted to complain, but he knew this was meant to spread word about the band – to get their name out. And it worked, with more and more people joining the fanbase and liking their music with each passing day.

But man, was it exhausting.

Those were the nights they crashed at Chris’ place, either splayed out on the couch, or bundled together on the beds. They felt comfortable around each other by now – comfortable enough at least to share beds. Somehow, it gave the comfort they all unconsciously sought. This path they were walking was their path – no one else would understand it the way they did.

Cuddling up to another human being at night was _nice_.

Though Viktor avoided with all his might to end up together with Yuuri, usually taking his usual spot besides Chris. He didn’t want to risk it.

But sometimes… Sometimes Viktor wondered whether the look on Yuuri’s face when Viktor announced he would crash beside Chris was a look of sadness – of a tiny flicker of hope shattering. Yuuri never said anything, always smiled politely and bid Viktor a good night, and Viktor never asked.

With each passing day, the choice to retreat to a different bed become more difficult. And Viktor didn’t _understand_. He didn’t understand the part of him that howled at night when he let himself be comforted by the strong arms that belonged to Chris. He didn’t understand the pain is his heart as he cried silently when Chris stroked his head.

He just didn’t understand…

Their days and nights were packed, leaving Viktor drained and exhausted, and on the one day they were supposed to have some time off, Yakov decided it would be best to shoot the music video for _Change_. It were hours and hours of gruelling practice, their faces covered in makeup, their bodies dressed in clothing Viktor would never dare wear outside. It bordered on the line of scandalous and mysteriously enchanting, with ripped jeans and shirt that dipped far below the collar bone.

But it had been worth it, when they had seen a few of the shots. They gave a certain vibe, one that said _don’t mess with us_.

And Yuuri… Yuuri had been so fucking beautiful Viktor had felt his breath catch in his throat.

The entire situation was draining him, confusing him.

“Viktor, it’s almost your turn.”

_Another night, another show._

The crowd had exponentially grown over the few weeks since their album had been released, the fans growing more eager with every concert. Viktor looked up at the person – he couldn’t remember her name – standing near the entrance to the stage. She was pretty, her features delicate, but the annoyed frown ruined the soft image. Phichit was already on stage, the familiar rhythm of their introduction melody playing. Viktor looked up just in time to see Chris walk on stage, guitar in hand, the crowd screaming and yelling his name.

It was his turn next.

Everything was _loud_ , too loud. Viktor was vaguely aware his breath wasn’t as steady as it should be, the air going in and out of his lungs too quickly.

His thoughts had been all over the place, as were his emotions, and he suddenly felt so _lost_ , so entirely out of place. He wanted to scream and run, away from everything that was happening. He _wanted_ …

A warm hand (small, _soft_ ) on the lower part of his back brought him back, grounded him.

“Vitya,” Yuuri murmured and the soft voice touched Viktor’s very _soul_.

Viktor looked behind him, searching the calmness he knew he would find in Yuuri’s eyes. “Yes?”

Yuuri looked at him with so much trust and _love_ and Viktor felt his throat tighten again. He had to remind himself not to act upon any of his feelings right there and then, refrain from grabbing the younger and kissing him senseless.

“Go,” Yuuri said, gently pushing Viktor towards the entrance that would lead him on stage. The screams were growing louder as the sounds of the melody became heavier. There wasn’t much time left, probably only a couple of seconds. “ _Go_ , Vitya,” Yuuri said again, his fingers digging into Viktors spine. “I’m right behind you.”

“I know,” Viktor murmured, because Yuuri was always right behind him. There were exactly seven seconds between his own entrance and Yuuri’s; nothing more, nothing less.

_One._

Viktor breathed in, tried to smile, and grabbed his guitar from the assistant waiting (somewhat impatiently) for him. He ducked his head in an apology and stepped onto the stage.

_Two._

The spotlights were hot on his skin, the music loud in his ears, the screams of approval food for his soul. The venue smelled like nervous anticipation, sweat and cheap beer and it felt like a strange form of _home_.

 _Three_.

Viktor breathed in slowly, holding his breath for a second, before playing the first notes, almost delicately, and let his breath go.

 _Four_.

Phichit was slowly building the rhythm, the drums vibrating through the place. The crowd screamed louder, a mixture of their names, almost like a chant. Viktor couldn’t help but grin, the energy of the audience like fuel.

 _Five_.

Viktor looked to his right, to Chris, who was slowly slipping into his stage persona. The confident smirk was resting on his lips (tinted a subtle shade of pinkish red), his green eyes (lined with black liner and a shimmering shadow) glimmering with a strange kind of lust. It was no wonder the fans swooned over him. Chris was breath-taking like this, _especially_ like this, and he knew it. It showed in the way he thrust his hips, in the way he moved his head, in the way he parted his lips just ever so slightly.  

 _Six_.

His fingers played the chords with ease, hours and hours of practise never failing him. The song was building, the whispered Japanese words echoing around the venue, some people in the crowd mumbling along with it. Viktor payed it no mind, his eyes instead looking to his left.

 _Seven_.

Yuuri walked on stage, at the moment the introduction reached its tipping point, oozing confidence. He bedazzled the crowd within seconds, his smile lighting up the entire stage. Fans _screeched_ his name frantically, some of the girls in the front line desperately trying to get closer.

Viktor had the sudden urge to snort at the sight.

They weren’t blind. They saw the tweets, the posts, the articles. History Maker was the new hot thing in town, the new promising band fresh from Feltman’s entertainment and they didn’t disappoint. They had the looks, they had the sound, they had the attitude – they had it _all_. It was only logical that there would be fans like those.

Phichit wasted no time between _Introduction_ and _Monster_ , picking up the pace instantly and Viktor followed. The chords were madness, but it was extremely satisfying to be able to _finally_ play it so effortlessly.

“ _Are you ready?_ ” Yuuri yelled, firing up the crowd. He took the microphone in his hand, his body swaying along with the powerful music. And then he opened his mouth and the crowd lost it.

_You say that you love me_

_But darling don’t you know_

_Underneath it all_

_I’m just a monster_

_You say that you need me_

_That you can’t live without me_

_But darling don’t you know_

_I’m just a monster_

Yuuri changed his tone, teased the words, played with the melody in that particular way he only did when he was on stage. He danced and ran around, his voice never wavering, instead becoming stronger with each passing number.

They switched things up with softer songs, such as _Agape_ , where they sat down at the front of the stage. Yuuri coaxed the audience to light their flashlights and sing along, creating a beautiful see of flickering lights.

Viktor barely payed it any attention, his eyes too focused on Yuuri. Yuuri was so beautiful like this, with his eyes closed and the words coming directly from his soul. His voice was like liquid gold and Viktor felt the sudden need to listen to it forever – like it was some kind of drug.

And maybe, maybe he was just way too hopeful, but he thought he saw Yuuri looking at him occasionally, his dark eyes almost _daring_ him.

Viktor didn’t dare, not yet, but _fuck_ , he was so close.

~

Predictably, they ended up at Chris his apartment after the concert. The four of them had been dropped off at the studio and had stashed their instruments away, before getting into Chris’s old car and driving to the apartment.

The ride had been mostly silent, the four of them tired to the bone. Concerts were amazing, but also immensely draining.

That didn’t stop them from sharing a drink, however, once they finally got into the apartment and out of the stage clothing.

“Cheers,” Viktor said, holding his glass up, “to another great night.”

“ _Cheers!_ ” came the sound from the other three, followed by the typical _clink_ of cheap glass touching.

“You know, the fans were already singing the songs along.” Phichit took a generous swig of his drink and pulled a face. The vodka was a cheaper one and it was obvious he wasn’t a big fan of it. “I loved how they talked along during the introduction. I mean, that’s Japanese for crying out loud.”

“Yeah,” Chris agreed, sipping the cheap vodka with ease. “I do like that there are more guys turning up as well during the concerts. Balances it a bit more, don’t you think?”

“You just like looking at guys more than you like looking at girls,” Yuuri quipped.

Chris grinned. “Guilty.”

Viktor twirled he glass in his hand, watching the vodka slosh up and down, reaching the edge but never going over. It wasn’t the best vodka he’d ever had, but he was a Russian and he’d drink it anyway. Besides, it was just a small celebratory drink – nothing more, nothing less. “Do you think those girls in the front knew our band is like, I don’t know, ninety-five percent gay?”

“Why only ninety-five percent?” Yuuri asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“Phichit still has five percent of bisexual in him,” Viktor smirked, hearing Chris snort and Phichit gasp.

“You heard it, Phichit-kun,” Yuuri laughed. “The girls are _all_ yours.”

Phichit shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Y’all are idiots.”

“You love us, though.”

Phichit sighed. “Sadly, yes. Now take that cheap-ass vodka and do with it what you will. I’m going to take a shower and then sleep. I can barely keep my eyes open.”

They took their turns in the shower, Viktor volunteering to go last. He was tired, yes, but his mind was still awake, going over the concert. There were things that went great, but there were also things he wanted them to improve upon.

Most of all, he wanted to improve himself.

For him to space out the way he had, right before a concert… It was starting to become annoying. He could deal with feelings, but it became a problem if they started to interfere with work. More importantly, he didn’t need to give Yakov even more reasons to doubt him.

The living room was dark, seeing how Viktor hadn’t even bothered to turn the lights on as Chris had turned them off before his turn in the shower. It was probably a habit; one Viktor hadn’t felt like correcting.

Yuuri peaked his head around the corner of the door. “The bathroom is free.”

Viktor looked up, smiling tiredly. “Thank you.” He got up, feeling his bones crack and snap and he groaned. A shower would do his body some good.

He took his time, as he always did whenever he could, thinking about everything and nothing, letting the hot water soothe his skin and muscles.

It wasn’t until he was stepping out of the bathroom, hair still slightly damp, that he got the feeling something was… _strange_.

The small corridor leading to the bedrooms was dark, save from some light coming from the guest room, where Yuuri and Phichit tended to sleep.

 “Vitya,” Yuuri said, his voice soft as he leaned against the doorframe that led to said guest room. His hair was still damp from the shower, his face clean from any leftover makeup. He looked… _soft_ and Viktor swallowed. “Where are you going?”

Viktor frowned, the question throwing him off. It wasn’t a strange question per se. The content and intention were relatively normal and could be considered a friendly attempt at conversation at such a later hour. The question wasn’t strange, but it was rather unnecessary, seeing how it was far past midnight and how they were all tired and worn out from the concert.

No, it wasn’t the question that was weird nor the answer that was already on the tip of his tongue. It was the fact that Yuuri had _asked_ the question. Yuuri asking questions wasn’t anything new, but Yuuri asking this particular question at this particular time of day (or night, of you wanted to get technical) _was_. It was a question that asked one thing, but meant something else if you dared to listen.

It annoyed him; how Yuuri was able to make his entire _being_ fall back into that confusing state he so desperately tried to avoid with one single question.

One single question that was supposed to be innocent, but somehow didn’t sound innocent at all.

Viktor eyed the door to Chris’s bedroom. It was closed and that little piece of information made him frown again. A closed door wasn’t strange, and it was even less strange if it was the door that led to a bedroom. Bedrooms were funny things, hiding so many secrets and unholy things. They were safe havens, a place where you grew and learned, a place where you discovered and cried. It wasn’t strange at all that people preferred to keep that door closed, locking it in a way you would lock a diary. Bedrooms were personal and most people liked to keep it hidden from prying eyes.

Chris wasn’t like that, at least not around him, hence why Viktor frowned. There was an unspoken agreement that they left the door ajar for the other, only closing it when the both of them were in the room and ready to sleep. The past few weeks, Chris had _always_ left the door slightly ajar, a silent invite for Viktor to sleep there instead of on the couch. But now the door was closed, and it confused him. For some reason, _something_ had changed.

 “To Chris?” Viktor said, but it came out more like a question. He wasn’t sure himself.

Yuuri chuckled as he pushed his fringe away from his face, some stubborn pieces immediately falling back in place. “Phichit already claimed that spot.” He was dressed casually, like Viktor, loose sweatpants and a baggy shirt. It was old, the material thin and greyed out in a way that only time and too many washing cycles could do, and probably belonged to Chris.

“Oh,” was all Viktor managed to say, because what else was he supposed to say? It wasn’t unusual for Chris and Phichit to share a bed, but it hadn’t happened the past few weeks. It had been normal for Chris and Viktor to share a bed at night, the same way it had been normal for Phichit and Yuuri to share a bed. It was easy that way.

 _Normal_.

“Guess you’re staying with me tonight then,” Yuuri continued, so fucking casually and Viktor’s head snapped up.

 _Say what now_?

“Unless you prefer to sleep on the couch, of course.”

No, Viktor didn’t prefer sleeping on the couch. His body was _tired_ , his muscles aching, and he needed to sleep in a proper bed. As comfortable as the couch was, it paled in comparison to the beds Chris owned. But that didn’t mean he looked forward to sharing a bed with Yuuri. Not because he didn’t want to, but because he wanted it _too much_.

He eyed the closed door on his left for a second, part of him expecting it to magically open, before he sighed and walked into the bedroom.

Yuuri didn’t say anything, instead closing the door and turning off the light. One of the lamps on the nightstand was still on, lightening the bed in soft, orange colours. Viktor had never liked the colour orange. It was a strange colour, hanging somewhere between the passionate shades of red and the happy hues of yellow.

But _this_ orange, he didn’t mind. It was soft and kind and _warm_ and full of hopeful promises.

He slipped under the cover, unconsciously taking the left side of the bed. The mattress dipped slightly, the covers making a rustling sound, when Yuuri joined him.

He turned on his side, propped his arm under his head and let his eyes roam over Yuuri’s face. Yuuri’s features were so incredibly soft like this, coloured in that particular orange light.

His heart hammered far too fast against his ribcage.

“It’s funny,” Yuuri chuckled softly. “I wanted to ask you on what side you prefer to sleep but turns out I don’t have to.”

“I can change sides, if you want to.”

Yuuri shook his head, the movement somewhat lost in the plushness of the pillow. “I always sleep on the right side.”

Viktor’s heart skipped a beat.

“I must warn you though.” Yuuri took his glasses off, putting them on the nightstand beside the bed before turning to face Viktor again. “I apparently steal blankets.”

“I know,” Viktor hummed, snuggling deeper under the blankets. The bed was warm and comfortable, and he swore he could feel his muscles relax.

Yuuri’s brows furrowed. “Huh?”

“Remember that night we watched so many movies and fell asleep in the living room? That night I had a nightmare?” Yuuri nodded, prompting Viktor to continue. “You-- _ah_ … You joined me in the chair. I woke up with my feet freezing the next morning because you had stolen _both_ of the blankets.”

Yuuri snorted, loud and carefree. “Oops?”

“ _Pff_ , if that’s your way of apologising, you’re doing a shit job.”

“I’m sorry I stole your blankets that night. Happy?”

“ _Very_.”

They lay in silence for a little while after that, snuggling deep under the covers. The summer was long gone, a slight chill constantly present at night.

The silence was comfortable, in a way all the silences between them were comfortable. Viktor simply looked at Yuuri, as Yuuri looked at him, their eyes holding onto each other, as if they were searching for something. Something neither of them could quite grasp.

It was Yuuri that made the first move, crossing the line that had been unconsciously there.

He slipped his hand in Viktor’s, his fingers moving over the calloused skin in a way that bordered close to adoration. Viktor let him, not moving ( _too afraid_ ), but not tearing his gaze away either.

Minutes went by. Silent minutes in which Yuuri’s fingers danced over the rough skin of Viktor’s hand, drawing patterns. Sometimes his fingers dipped lower, caressing the sensitive skin of Viktor’s wrist with utmost care. They didn’t wander lower, always coming back up to Viktor’s fingers, almost to the point where it felt like worshipping.

They didn’t speak. Viktor could hear the faint snoring from Chris down the hallway and the soft footsteps of Phichit towards the bathroom, the water running, the toilet flushing, before those same footsteps retreated back to the bedroom across the hall and closed the door with a soft _thud_.

Yuuri’s fingers wandered again, down Viktor’s wrist, across his inner arm.

Viktor – _finally_ – responded.

His fingertips grazed the soft and delicate skin of Yuuri’s arm, mirroring the movements Yuuri was making.

It was incredibly intimate, but neither of them stopped, not even when their fingertips passed the curve of one’s shoulder. Not when Yuuri’s fingers grazed over Viktor’s collarbone. Not when Viktor’s fingers caressed the soft skin of Yuuri’s neck.

Viktor’s breath hitched, caught in his throat when Yuuri let his fingers explore, soft touches now light on his chest, dragging Viktor’s shirt down.

His own fingers curled around Yuuri’s jaw, his thumb hovering over Yuuri’s bottom lip.

 _Another line to cross_.

Yuuri’s pupils were blown, his already dark eyes darker than ever, his lips slightly parted – _waiting_ – and somehow that pushed Viktor over the edge.

He moved in, crashing his lips on Yuuri’s.

There was a fraction of a second where Yuuri didn’t respond, a fraction of a second where Viktor suddenly got scared that he had misread the signals.

But then Yuuri _responded_ , pressing his lips against Viktor’s, his hand gripping Viktor’s arm, the nails digging into the skin there.

And _fuck_ , Viktor was _gone_.

His hands found their way into Yuuri’s hair, pulling them closer, angling their heads so he could deepen the kiss. It was frantic and rushed, all tongue and teeth. They breathed into each other, biting and sucking, their hands pressing painfully in sensitive skin.

Viktor needed to hold on in order to stay grounded, because _fuck_ , was he falling deep.

Yuuri kissed heatedly, biting Viktor’s bottom lip, licking into his mouth, his nails scratching angry marks on Viktor’s back.

But he _didn’t care_.

It wasn’t enough and far too much at the same time.

Yuuri clawed at shirt Viktor was wearing, that had fallen down his shoulder, taking it off before crashing their lips back together.

Viktor let his hands do their own thing, grabbing Yuuri’s hips and pulling him closer, close enough to feel how aroused Yuuri was. He couldn’t help the groan that escaped past his lips.

“I need--” Yuuri breathed against his lips, his fingers now shaking ever so slightly at Viktor’s sweatpants, his hips buckling forward on their own, seeking the friction he needed. “I -- _fuck,_ ” he hissed when their hips collided, sending jolts of pleasure across Viktor’s body.

He tugged at Yuuri’s shirt, lifting the frail material and getting rid of it. A faint ripping sound could be heard, but Viktor ignored it and threw the shirt away, allowing his hands to roam around Yuuri’s toned chest.

Yuuri wasn’t broad by any means, but the muscles of his torso were visible, _touchable_ , and Yuuri responded in all the right ways when Viktor dragged his nails over Yuuri’s abdomen, gasping and groaning and wiggling his hips as he chased the pleasure.

Viktor made a mental note of it all; of every little moan, gasp, and movement Yuuri made. He sucked on a particular sensitive spot just below Yuuri’s ear longer than he’d originally intended, but Yuuri produced certain sounds that made Viktor weak to the knees.

There was nothing romantic about it, with the way they were clawing at each other’s skin, with the way they bit and sucked, leaving red and angry marks scattered across their fair skin.

“I--I _need_ …” Yuuri’s voice got lost in a particular loud whimper as his fingers curled around the waistband of Viktor’s sweatpants.

“ _I know_ ,” Viktor growled, because _he did_. He felt the same need, the same burning desire coursing through his veins and forcing him to grip Yuuri’s hips, his thumbs sliding the sweatpants down Yuuri’s _glorious_ thighs. “ _Fuck_ ,” he breathed unsteady, his hands pressing into the strong muscles.

Viktor’s head was foggy, his mind blissfully silent. All he could think, feel, _breathe_ was Yuuri. The way Yuuri dragged his nails across Viktor’s back. The way Yuuri tugged at Viktor’s bottom lip with his tip in order to get the access he wanted. The way Yuuri growled, the sound low and deep, when Viktor _finally_ made the move and let his fingers graze Yuuri’s cock.

It was a light touch, not enough at all, and Yuuri buckled his hips forward, his body seeking Viktor’s touch.

“ _Please_ ,” Yuuri begged, his eyes suddenly open and staring intensely into Viktor’s. His pupils were impossibly blown, his lips slightly opened, wet and red from all the kissing and biting and his breathing came out uneven. “Vitya, _please_ ,” he begged again, his voice cracking at the end.

A low, traitorous sound passed his lips and Viktor moved, grabbing Yuuri’s hands with his left hand and pinning them above Yuuri’s head, moving his body atop of Yuuri’s. His right hand travelled back to Yuuri’s dick and _grabbed_.

The sound that escaped Yuuri was _loud_ and so incredibly arousing.

Yuuri turned his head, trying to muffle the sounds that escaped him as Viktor started moving his hand, slowly jacking Yuuri off.

“ _Don’t_ ,” he rasped, his voice as wrecked as he felt. “I want to… _need_ to hear you.”

Yuuri’s head snapped back, his lips parted as if he wanted to respond, but Viktor flicked his wrist, circled his thumb around the head of Yuuri’s cock, pressing into the slit and Yuuri _let go_.

Yuuri moaned, his breathing ragged, his cheeks flushed, his hips moving as he sought more friction.

It was too much. Everything was too much and at the same time _not enough_.

Viktor moved down, peppering feverish kisses across Yuuri’s chest, pressing kisses against the inner parts of Yuuri’s tights, sucking and biting until red marks adorned the creamy skin. He moved up, his hand letting go of Yuuri’s cock – and Yuuri _whimpered_ at the loss of contact – before he licked across the shaft.

“ _Fuck_ , _Vitya_.”

Yuuri’s voice resonated through the room, loud and desperate and Viktor moved, taking Yuuri into his mouth and swallowing down in one swift move.

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ , don’t you _dare_ stop,” Yuuri growled, his voice so much lower than Viktor had ever heard. His hands found their way into Viktor’s hair, tugging harshly at the strands, holding Viktor in place.

Not that Yuuri needed to do so; Viktor had no intention to move away. He bobbed his head up and down, his tongue circling around the tip as he switched between fast and slow, egging Yuuri on, bringing him so close to the edge, but not allowing him to come.

It had been a while, but there was something about giving blowjobs that you never forgot. And Yuuri was an excellent receiver, all breathy moans and gasps and thrusts as he chased the high, seeking the release.

The only warning Viktor got, was a sharp tug on his head, but instead of pulling off, he stayed where he was, sucking Yuuri through his orgasm.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Yuuri muttered above him.

Viktor finally released Yuuri’s cock with a serene pop and looked up. Yuuri looked thoroughly and blissfully _fucked_. Viktor couldn’t help but smirk. “That good?” he joked, crawling up the bed again and lying beside Yuuri. His own dick was still hard and straining, leaking a bit of precum, but he tried to pay it no mind. This wasn’t about him.

Yuuri just hummed, a blissful smile on his face, his cheeks a rosy colour. He opened his eyes and smirked back, before rolling over and boldly grabbing Viktor’s dick. “Let me return the favour,” he murmured, stealing kisses from Viktor’s lips.

Part of Viktor wanted to protest – that he hadn’t done it to get it in return, but Yuuri’s fingers moved over his dick and Yuuri’s lips were trailing across his body and suddenly Viktor couldn’t even remember that he had wanted to protest.

He let himself fall back, throwing away any last reserve he might have hold on to for his own sanity. They had crossed the line, the least he could do was enjoy it while he could.

Yuuri worked slowly, sucking and biting whenever he felt like it at Viktor’s skin, his hand moving up and down, fast enough to keep Viktor wanting, but slow enough to not push him over the edge.

Yuuri worked delicately, his fingers and lips seemingly adorning Viktors body, pressing unspoken words into the exposed skin.

Viktor let him, his eyes closed, all his senses entirely focused on Yuuri.

And then Yuuri moved in, pressing a kiss against the head, and Viktor shuddered, a growl escaping him.

 _Tease_.

Yuuri continued with his pleasurably slow torture: kissing and touching, exploring. Until suddenly, he wasn’t.

And Viktor saw fucking stars.

He had guessed Yuuri would be good with his mouth, but he hadn’t anticipated _how_ good Yuuri was with his mouth.

Yuuri gave him the best blowjob Viktor had had in his entire life, sucking and licking and kissing in all the right ways, taking him in and breathing around him.

It was too much and Viktor felt the heat in his body grow.

“Yuuri-- _ah_ ,” he whimpered, unable to hold back the moans that flowed out of his mouth on their own accord. “I’m going to…”

Yuuri didn’t move away, instead sucking harder, even when Viktor came – _hard_ – swallowing as if it hadn’t even happened.

Viktor sighed. “I _knew_ you were good with your mouth,” he mumbled.

Yuuri snorted as he hoisted himself higher up the bed again. He didn’t lay beside Viktor though, choosing instead to crawl on top of him. “That good?” he joked, gently stroking a few stray strands away from Viktors forehead.

Viktor looked at Yuuri for a second, before moving up and pressing his lips – softly – against Yuuri’s. “More than good,” he whispered in-between soft kisses.

“You weren’t so bad yourself.”

“You think they heard us?”

Yuuri chuckled. “We’ll probably find out tomorrow, but I’m assuming they didn’t.” He pressed a kiss against the corner of Viktor’s mouth. “Sometimes, when you and Chris are already in bed, Phichit and I still watch a movie. Like those ridiculous comedies? You guys never heard us laugh.”

“Not that I can remember, no. But Chris _is_ a very vast sleeper.”

“Phichit too,” Yuuri hummed, peppering soft, barely-there kisses against Viktors neck.

“Good.”

Yuuri hummed again, pressing another few kisses against Viktor’s mouth, before sliding down and lying beside Viktor, curling his body around Viktor’s. He let his head rest on Viktor’s chest and breathed out, sounding content. “You were good on stage today. The fans loved you.”

Viktor snuck his arm around Yuuri’s waist, pulling the younger closer. “You were better, though.”

“Why do you _always_ have to throw a compliment right back?”

“Because it’s true.”

“Learn to accept some credit where it is due, Vitya.” It was meant to be scolding, but Yuuri yawned at the end, his voice losing the bite.

Viktor chuckled softly. “Okay.”

Their breathing evened, synchronised, with each passing minute. Eventually, Viktor turned a bit and turned the small light off. He pressed a last kiss on top of Yuuri’s head, lingering a second or two.

“Good night, Vitya,” Yuuri breathed, already on the brink of sleep.

“Good night, baby,” Viktor said as he felt his eyes close, _almost_ missing the way Yuuri pressed himself closer.

They didn’t let go of each other once during the night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am terribly sorry it took me this long, yet again, but Uni is really a bitch that gives me barely any time to breathe. Also, I haven't really been in the mood to write lately, with the news of Wonho leaving Monsta X (any Monsta X-stans out there that share my pain?). It's been an emotional rollercoaster the past fews days, to say the least.
> 
> Anyway, I thought it was time that our boys finally had some action. Does this mean everything is immediately okay? Nah, probably not, but we'll let them enjoy this one, right?
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter, as I personally really needed something sweet, and to all the people still reading, leaving kuddos and commenting: sincerely thank you, from the bottom of my heart. Y'all are the best.
> 
> See you next chapter!


	11. Heartache

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _So they say that time  
>  Takes away the pain  
> But I'm still the same, ah  
> And they say that I will find another you  
> That can't be true, ah_
> 
> Heartache - One OK Rock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing but my imagination, mistakes, and seriously bad time management.

Viktor woke to an empty bed.

He wasn’t sure what he had expected, but somehow, his brain hadn’t expected to wake up to… well, _this_.

There was a flicker of light passing through the not-fully closed curtains, illuminating the room in that typical morning light. Rain ticked against the window in a rapid tempo and the wind howled outside, loud and unnerving. It sounded like the world was crying – though the reason why was probably forever lost in the mysteries of the earth.

The irony wasn’t lost on Viktor and he sighed as he rolled over, his hand grazing the empty spot beside him. It was still warm, meaning Yuuri hadn’t left that long ago.

His throat tightened.

A part of him hoped that Yuuri had just gone to the bathroom and that he would be back soon, but Viktor wasn’t dumb nor deaf and he could hear the soft laughter that belonged to Yuuri coming from the kitchen, alongside Phichit’s typical high-pitched giggling. He could hear beans being grinded in the expensive coffee machine Chris owned, and the soft sounds of someone cooking. He involuntarily thought back to the time he had woken to Yuuri cooking for him (Japanese eggrolls, with a too difficult name that Viktor had butchered).

A wave of nausea washed over him.

He _knew_ it had been stupid to hope, but that hadn’t stopped him from doing so. He had wanted to wake up to Yuuri, hoping they could talk about it, figure out what this was. Because whatever it had been, it had been _good_. It had felt so incredibly good to finally be able to kiss Yuuri, to hear Yuuri breathe Viktor’s name, to see Yuuri come undone.

And Viktor realised, though it wasn’t much of a surprise, that he wanted to do it _again_.

But the empty bed was probably enough of an answer as it was: Yuuri didn’t want commitment; just a quick release. And that should have been okay, really. It made perfect sense.

It _should_ have been okay, but it really wasn’t.

Because he could still _feel_ Yuuri’s fingers on his skin, pressing and scratching in all the right places. He could still _feel_ the marks on his body, though they were fading rapidly. He could still _taste_ Yuuri on his tongue and he could still _smell_ Yuuri in the sheets and on his skin.

Viktor turned to his back, his eyes on the ceiling.

He didn’t want to get up. He dreaded having to go to the kitchen and join the easy bantering and conversation, because it meant pretending that he was okay. It meant saying he wasn’t hurt. And that would be a lie, because he _was_.

 _Infatuation, my ass_.

He groaned and pushed the covers away (that smelled too much like Yuuri). It was all a terrible mess, but part of this was his own fault. He could – and _should_ – have said no. He could have gently told Yuuri that they were bandmates and that Viktor wasn’t okay with crossing the line between friends and lovers.

But they weren’t exactly lovers now, were they? They were just friends that had sought one another for some quick release. In a way, that reasoning made sense. Viktor knew of many bands that dealt with sexual frustration that way, when they were too busy to go out and seek a partner for the night. It was easier, quicker, to seek out a friend that knew how you felt. It was less prone to problems and dramatics that came with relationships. Casual hook-ups with your bandmates were easy to hide behind closed doors, easier to keep away from the media.

The problem was that it wasn’t just a quick release for him.

Viktor got up and dressed, noticing with a pang in his heart that his shirt was worse for wear due to Yuuri’s tugging, and braced himself as he walked towards the living room.

Phichit and Yuuri were standing in the kitchen, talking and giggling softly, while Chris sat at the table, a cup of coffee in his hands and his hair still messy from sleep. He wore his glasses and glanced at the two younger boys in the kitchen occasionally, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips whenever he did. The entire domesticity of the scene was almost hilarious if not for the stab Viktor felt in his heart.

“Good morning,” he said as he shuffled inside the living room, making his presence known. At least his voice sounded steady.

A chorus of “Good morning!” answered him, but Viktor couldn’t help but look at Yuuri only. Yuuri smiled, small and a bit reserved ( _shy_?), but he smiled, nonetheless.

It twisted the dagger in Viktor’s heart.

“Sleep well?” Phichit asked, stirring something inside a pan. It smelled like eggs.

Viktor sat down opposite Chris and nodded. “You?” he managed to ask, not daring to say too many words. He tried to keep his attention on Phichit, he truly did, but his eyes wandered towards Yuuri, who was busy making coffee. He wore the shirt he had worn last night, but there was a small tear at the bottom that hadn’t been there before. At least, not before Viktor had undressed Yuuri.

The dagger twisted deeper.

Phichit hummed as he added spices to whatever it was, he was cooking. “I did! Though halfway through the night I woke up due to Chris’ snoring.” He giggled, the sound high and bubbly. Viktor felt his mouth turn up in a smile at the sound. It always made everyone happy, whether they wanted it or not, and Viktor was no exception. “I poked him in the ribs though, that seemed to do the trick.”

“Yes,” Chris gruntled, but it was obvious he wasn’t as annoyed by the entire ordeal as he tried to be, sipping his coffee, “I have a bruise thanks to that little action.”

Phichit shrugged. “Not my fault you started snoring like a caveman.”

Viktor couldn’t help but laugh softly. This was good. This was normal. Chris and Phichit had always liked to bicker. “Next time, push him to his other side,” he advised.

“Noted,” Phichit hummed, placing the food he had been cooking on plates.

It was a normal morning; one they had had countless of times before. But Viktor was hyperaware of the soft hand on his shoulder as Yuuri placed a freshly made cup of coffee in front of him, reality kicking him in the face that this was far from normal. “Black, right?” Yuuri asked, his eyes seeking Viktor’s.

Viktor was _so lost_. He felt himself nod more than he was consciously aware of allowing his body to do so and he felt his lips curling up in a smile (fake and not reaching his eyes, just his face memorizing which muscles to use at the appropriate time). It bordered on the edge of an outer-body experience and Viktor was clinging onto everything he could to stay present in the here and now.

Yuuri’s eyes were soft and gentle, the dark lust that had been there last night long gone.

But Viktor remembered. He remembered the way Yuuri moved, touched and kissed. He remembered the way Yuuri whimpered and moaned, begging Viktor not to stop.

The dagger sliced through his heart, leaving him to bleed.

“I--Thank you,” he managed to mutter, smiling again, even though he knew the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

Yuuri smiled again, but it looked somewhat sad, squeezing Viktor’s shoulder, before helping Phichit with breakfast. They talked quietly and Viktor diverted his attention elsewhere, not wanting to eavesdrop onto something that wasn’t meant for him to be heard.

“You look like shit.”

Viktor looked up, right into Chris’ worried face, and _snorted_. “I feel like shit, thank you very much,” he said softly, his words losing their bite due to the lack of volume.

Chris quirked an eyebrow, putting his phone down. Viktor could see the familiar heading of Instagram. The page of the band had been steadily growing, more fans liking them with each passing hour. It was strange, in a way, to actually see their popularity rise, but it was good to see.

“Don’t ask,” Viktor sighed at the same time Chris opened his mouth. “Just… Don’t ask.”

“Fine, I won’t ask… _now_. But later I will.”

“Later,” Viktor agreed, hoping that later would never come, even though he knew later would be sooner than he’d like.

They ate breakfast as if it was any other breakfast; Phichit chatting about various topics and the rest of them pitching in whenever they felt like it.

Viktor stayed silent mostly, focussing instead on his breakfast (vegetables and eggrolls, similar to the food Yuuri had made all those days ago, even though it tasted different). He couldn’t help but glance over at Yuuri every so often.

And if his stomach flipped every time Yuuri glanced Viktor’s way, his lips curled upwards in a rather small smile, but his brows slightly furrowed, well…

That was no one else’s business but Viktor’s.

~

The thing with debuting bands is that there is an enormous lack of time.

They took their turns in the shower after breakfast (Viktor avoiding Chris like the plague, too scared for the judgement, opting to either hide alone in the kitchen or somewhere near Phichit) and rushed to get ready, leaving the apartment and driving to Feltman’s building in Chris’ old car.

They had another meeting with Yakov, and later with Greg, about plans for their upcoming tour, another tour further away, about the sales of the album (which were higher than originally expected), about upcoming interviews that had been pushed into their already tight schedule last-minute. There were plans for another photoshoot as part of promotions, ideas for possible bigger shows nearby, in-between the tour data, the first drafts for the music videos for _Agape_ and _Eros_ …

The list went on and on an there was _not enough time_.

They were pushed into a car that belonged to the agency shortly after the meeting, Celestino Cialdini the one joining them today. Yakov was often too busy managing the entire business, and Celestino had offered to manage them whenever Yakov didn’t have the time (which was often these days). While Celestino rarely managed a group, Yakov had accepted the offer immediately, undoubtedly trusting the younger man enough to not fuck things up.

Celestino was a gentle man, soft and caring, and Viktor could see why the younger people preferred Celestino over Yakov. Where Yakov was harsh and almost cruel, Celestino was just and gentle, nudging people to the right direction with utmost care. He cared for the artists as if they were his children, making sure they ate at the right times and drank enough water. He looked after all of them, his eyes always smiling with a certain fondness that one couldn’t fake.

Viktor didn’t mind it that much, but he missed Yakov. Viktor had been part of the agency for years now and he had always worked with Yakov. Yakov, snarky as their manager may be, was something he knew, something he understood. While Celestino’s kindness was greatly appreciated, it also felt somewhat strange and uncomfortable. It almost felt like being coddled and he didn’t know what to do with that feeling. Nevertheless, he rather had Celestino acting as their manager than someone he didn’t know well. While he had never been particularly close with Celestino, he had shared a few conversations over the years with the older man, always pleasant and friendly.

Celestino chatted away as they drove to the place where the interview would be held, talking about some of the newer kids that had joined the agency recently. There had been quite a few new promising artists that had joined and Celestino tended to take them under his wing when he was around, showing them the ropes and setting them up with their prospective managers.

Because that was the thing with Feltman’s agency. The agency had grown so incredibly big over the years that every day new contracts were signed, new groups were formed, new music was released. But so very few of those made it to the big audience, most of them just hanging in that bittersweet nothingness where they could perform for a small audience regularly, releasing new music every so often, barely scraping by, but never making it to those big venues they dreamt of.

Viktor sincerely hoped that History Maker wouldn’t be part of that niche.

Even when they entered the place – a small building that had seen better days, though it seemed to be recently renovated on the inside, with modern furniture and a stylish reception – Celestino continued chatting amicably. Phichit indulged the older man, asking questions at the appropriate times and smiling whenever was necessary. Phichit was good at socially entertaining people, his skills never wavering.

Viktor saw the way Chris was eyeing him, but there was just not enough time for them to be alone, as they were immediately whisked away to dressing rooms to get prepped. They would also have a photoshoot to go along with the interview. More marketing strategies that Viktor had stopped questioning. At this point in the game, it was a matter of saying “yes sir” and going along with it. He trusted Yakov and would follow his manager wherever the older man led him. Even if that meant walking into questionable dressing rooms (that clearly hadn’t had the luxury of being renovated) to have a photoshoot he didn’t care about and to have an interview asking the same questions that had been asked so many times before.

Celestino darted around the dressing rooms (there were two, Phichit and Viktor sitting in one, Chris and Yuuri in the other), taking various calls in hushed tones and asking them whether they wanted some coffee or tea.

Time moved quickly and before Viktor knew it, his coffee was long gone and the girl that had done his make-up and hair announced she was done.

Viktor looked at himself, only to be met with a stranger. The girl had done an exquisite job. She had accentuated his eyes with dark eyeshadow and eyeliner and had tinted his lips ever so slightly. His hair was styled backwards, exposing his forehead.

“Damn, Viktor, looking good.” Phichit whistled, already dressed in the clothes he would wear for the shoot. His makeup was done in a similar manner, dark and alluring, and he wore black fake-leather jeans and a white button-up that was decorated with swirly black patterns. It contrasted beautifully with his darker skin tone.

“Not bad yourself,” Viktor grinned, because Phichit did look great in the outfit. He might be the youngest, but Phichit suddenly looked so much more mature.

“Thanks!” Phichit gushed, smiling brightly. “Quick, go change! I want to take a picture we can put on Insta, to tease our fans.”

Viktor nodded and grabbed the clothes provided to him, changing in the rather shoddy dressing room. The pants were similar to the ones Phichit wore, black and made from some type of smooth material that resembled leather. It looked a bit wet, glistening in the soft spots that hung from the ceiling. There was a white button-up for him as well, though the material was thin and in certain lighting almost see-through. Lastly, there was a blazer in a black and white crocodile pattern, the material thick and heavy.

How this was considered giving off a rock-vibe was beyond him, but he found he enjoyed the look nonetheless.

Phichit wolf-whistled when Viktor stepped out of the dressing room. “Damn, whoever made those clothes should get a raise.” He tugged at his own pants a little, smiling smugly. “I mean, we look positively ravishing.”

“You could wear an ugly sweater and still look good in it,” Viktor countered, rolling his eyes, as he took his place beside Phichit, throwing his arm over the younger’s shoulders. They smiled brightly into the camera, goofing around as Phichit clicked away.

“Nice,” Phichit commented as he flicked through the photos, quickly editing one and uploading it on their social media.

Chris and Yuuri entered the room not long after that and they snapped a few pictures of the four of them together in various poses, courtesy of Celestino, before they were asked to come in for the photoshoot.

It wasn’t their first photoshoot, so they knew what to expect to some extent. The venue and the clothes might change, but everything else was always similar; Yuuri tended to be in the front or in the middle, Viktor either beside him or slightly behind him, and Chris and Phichit flanking them.

Today was no different.

The photographer, a kind woman with slightly greying hair, directed them into different poses and they obeyed.

“Yuuri, can you lift your arm a bit higher, like that, yes!” She continued giving small directions like that, from the way they held their hands, to the way they turned their knees or the way they gazed at the camera.

Viktor sighed and did as he was told, willing the time to go by fast.

~

 “So,” the girl that would be interviewing them said as she gestured for them to sit down. They did, their make-up taken off and dressed in their own clothes again. She sat down in the chair opposite them and clicked on a few buttons on a recording device. “I am Mila Brooks, and I’ll be the one interviewing today,” she said, as she vaguely pointed towards the recording device before placing it down on the small table next to her. “I will be recording this interview, with the intent of both publishing the written version in our magazine, together with the photos from the shoot, as well as publishing the audio on our website. You all cool with that?”

Viktor quickly looked at Celestino, who was standing on the side, hidden in the shadows, and quirked a questioning eyebrow. Celestino seemed to grimace but nodded. “Yeah,” Viktor breathed, looking back at Mila, “we’re cool with that.”

“ _Splendid_ ,” Mila exclaimed, smiling wide enough to show her teeth. They were white and a tad asymmetrical. “First of all, I want to talk about how you guys got together. Now, I _know_ you have all told this story far too many times by now, but I haven’t heard it in person yet. So please, indulge me.”

Phichit chuckled. “Well, it _is_ quite a story.”

Mila nodded, perhaps a little _too_ enthusiastically, silently asking Phichit to elaborate, her face all smiles and friendliness.

“ _Err_ \--I think Viktor and Yuuri are better at explaining this story.”

“You didn’t even _try_ ,” Yuuri laughed.

Phichit shrugged, smirking. “Doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

Mila laughed, batting her hand a little. “Will you indulge me, Yuuri?” she asked, her voice sweet.

Viktor wasn’t exactly sure what it was, but something about Mila didn’t sit right with him. Perhaps it was the way she kept looking at Yuuri while biting her lip. Perhaps it was the way she smiled with a little too much enthusiasm. Perhaps it was the way she batted her eyelashes and tilted her head. Perhaps it was a combination of it all. He looked over at Celestino, but the older man seemed to be busy with his phone.

“Well, I was the lead singer for the band we had in my college,” Yuuri started, grabbing Viktor’s attention. “And then one night they asked me to join and I kindly declined. But then _this_ dude next to me decided to stalk my ass at work.”

“I _wasn’t_ stalking.”

Chris hummed. “I remember a late-night conversation between the two of us that says otherwise.”

“Traitor.”

Yuuri cleared his throat. “Whether it was stalking or not -- which it totally _was_ , Viktor -- I ended up joining their rehearsals eventually and the rest is history.”

“Funny you say that,” Mila hummed, tapping the pencil she was holding against her lips thoughtfully, “considering your band name.”

“It’s catchy, isn’t it?” Phichit smiled, unbothered.

Mila smiled apologetically, or at least Viktor thought it _looked_ apologetically. “I never said it wasn’t. How did you guys come up with the name?”

Chris shrugged. He was wearing his glassed again. “We formed it years ago and it just stuck, I suppose. I mean, we have thought of different names, but none of them felt right. So, we just kept History Maker. And I like it -- we _all_ like it. It’s catchy, it reminds us of our goals. I wouldn’t want to change it for the world at this point.”

Mila seemed happy enough with that answer and quickly moved on to other generic questions other interviewers had already asked a dozen of times. What got them into music, how did they form the band, what plans did they have for the future and so on. It was nothing out of the ordinary and they answered politely, answers somewhat vague and short. Viktor felt his wariness slowly fade and he managed to let the tight muscles in his body relax a little, sitting back in his chair more comfortably.

Time ticked by fast, as it always tended to do during interviews. Viktor felt his mind wander often, receiving a subtle kick against his chair more than once from Chris.

“This was a delightful interview, boys,” Mila babbled happily. She closed the little notebook on her lap where she had jotted down questions and small comments. “I just have one final question before you leave. What’s up with your love lives?”

_What?_

“Miss Brooks,” interrupted Celestino at the moment Viktor had opened his mouth to tell Mila to shove her question elsewhere. Feltman’s agency had _always_ been clear about questions like the one she had just asked. Yakov felt it was both disrespectful (“My artists aren’t some type of fancy chickens on display.”) and completely irrelevant (“My artists make _music_ , not gossip for your benefit.”). Viktor had always agreed with Yakov on that, as it had allowed the artists contracted underneath the agency to date relatively privately. Yakov wasn’t against dating, as long as no one made a big deal out of it, _including_ the media. “This isn’t your first interview with our artists,” Celestino continued, his face a lot darker than Viktor had ever seen, and his voice resembling Yakov’s coldness. “I assume you’re familiar with the guidelines Feltman’s agency has set out.”

It wasn’t a question.

Mila giggled nervously, batting her hand again in that same movement she had done countless of times during the interview. The movement thoroughly annoyed Viktor. “Oh, no need to lash out at me,” she tutted, but her voice wavered. “I don’t see how such a little question can do any harm. The fans want to know as well, so why not give it to them? You guys are Feltman’s most promising group right now!”

Viktor’s eyes narrowed. “And have some little reporter twist our words? Have any possible relationships blown up in the magazines? We may not be that famous yet, but I have lived with fame long enough to know what it does to people--what it does to relationships.” He stood from the chair, removing the tiny microphone that had been clipped to the hem of his sweater. He ignored the soft mutters from the others. “If we would _ever_ decide to share our love life with the world, we’ll do it on our own terms. Not during an interview with a reporter that doesn’t respect basic ground rules.” He shoved the microphone into the hands of one of the assistants nearby and walked off.

Perhaps his reaction was unreasonable to some, but he honestly didn’t care. His legs carried him away, away from that stupid reporter and her stupid questions and her idiotic tactics.

It was pure coincidence that he ended up in one of the restrooms and that Yuuri was the first to find him.

(Though to be fair, Viktor had started to doubt if _anything_ that happened when it came to Yuuri was ever coincidental.)

“Viktor, are you okay?”

His body went rigid and he glared at Yuuri through the mirror that hung above the sinks. It was the most words Yuuri had said to him since last night.

Perhaps Yuuri saw something in his gaze, but he stepped inside the room, the door closing automatically behind him with a soft _thud_. He played with the hem of the sleeves of his oversized sweater. “Celestino is absolutely pissed. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this angry.”

“Good,” Viktor growled, “she deserves it. She was way out of line with that question.”

“Was she, though?”

Viktor wanted to scream and yell, because _wasn’t it obvious_? The question had crossed one of the clearest boundaries Feltman’s agency had and all reporters were made aware of it before any interview. Mila Brooks had known, and she had still, willingly, crossed that boundary.

But that didn’t mean _Yuuri_ knew.

Viktor sighed as he breathed in slowly, calming himself down. He turned around and crossed his arms in front of his chest as he searched Yuuri’s face. For what, he wasn’t entirely sure, but the delicate features were scrunched up in concern and his dark eyes flicked nervously.

“What do you know about the dating rule?”

Yuuri’s eyes widened in surprise. “You mean the one in our contracts?”

Viktor nodded. “More or less, yes.”

“I… I know only what’s in our contracts, I suppose. Assuming our contracts are the same.” He shrugged. He suddenly looked so small, leaning against the wall in his big sweater, his fringe falling over his forehead and touching the brim of his glasses.

Viktor wanted to reach out, to hold him, to kiss him.

Yuuri rubbed a little at his cheek, moving his glasses slightly up and down for a second before he continued. “I know we’re… not allowed to date? Or at least, not openly, I think. The contract didn’t really specify anything and I… I didn’t care to ask.”

Viktor frowned. “Perhaps you should have.”

“Perhaps,” Yuuri agreed, shrugging again, though the movement got somewhat lost in the sweater.

“You should have,” Viktor repeated, softly this time. “There is a lot of reasoning behind that rule. And… a lot of those relate to what that pathetic excuse of a… reporter asked.”

“I didn’t know,” Yuuri said, his voice small.

“When Yakov started his business, he was young, one of the youngest in the field. He built it from the ground up, with every single penny he had left. It was the biggest gamble of his life. Yakov knew he was taking a big risk, but I think we can all agree that man does not take _no_ for an answer in any way.” Viktor chuckled, thinking of all the times he had seen Yakov get what he wanted, purely by being such a stoic jackass. “It was the right decision, because _of course_ it was. Yakov had set his mind on making the agency big and that was exactly what he did. He wasn’t alone though.”

“He had Celestino, right?”

“Exactly,” Viktor nodded. “And he had Lilia. I’m not exactly sure whether they were already… _involved_ with one another back then, but there was probably something going on. Yakov trusted Lilia more than he has ever trusted anyone else. She helped him built his empire, giving eager kids dance lessons, helping kids how to deal with their nerves on stage. She is similar to Yakov, but gentler, in a way. If you’d do what she’d say, she was worth so much more than I can express. She taught me a lot, you see. She taught us all so much…” He wiped at his eyes, realizing tears had started to form.

Yuuri stepped forward and the movement startled Viktor a little. Yuuri, however, seemed unbothered and closed the distance that had been between them, grabbing Viktor’s hands and squeezing them gently. “She sounds amazing.”

Viktor could do nothing else but nod. “She _is_. And she… she taught Yakov the most. I think she was the one that taught Yakov to _care_. They got married and she stayed a part of the agency. Things were great…”

“Until they weren’t,” Yuuri finished the sentence.

“The media ripped them apart. Yakov had tried desperately to keep their relationship out of the spotlight. Lilia had never wanted the attention. She put up with it for all those years because she loved him. The media… they wrote such horrible things about them, and--” Viktor choked in his words, a sob threatening to make its way out of his throat. “Yakov and Lilia were like parents to me. They loved me for who I was. They encouraged me and were there when I needed them the most. And the _fucking media_ ruined it all. They divorced not long after that. The entire agency was in shambles for _months_.”

“ _God_ , I didn’t know,” Yuuri muttered softly.

Viktor shook his head. “Not many do. Yakov paid a lot of money to get rid of the stories and to protect Lilia. It almost cost him the agency. Yakov made it very clear from that point on that any form of dating wasn’t allowed to be done openly, _especially_ if you’re dating someone from within the agency. He doesn’t care what we do behind closed doors, but he does care what we do when we’re out in the world. We represent him as much as he represents us. And I suppose… I suppose he doesn’t want any of us to go through what he had to go through.”

“Is that why you got so angry when she asked that question?”

“Partly, yes. It’s one of the questions that is off-limits. Yakov has fought tooth and nail to make it very clear that his agency isn’t like any other. He has boundaries and they are to be respected. That question is _the_ question no one is allowed to ask. It’s also _the_ question we’re not allowed to answer. Yakov prefers the secrecy over the media dangling it over our heads like the sword of Damocles.”

Yuuri huffed, shaking his head. “I can understand where he’s coming from, but I can’t help but feel it’s also a bit drastic.”

“Maybe,” Viktor shrugged. His head felt lighter, though he wasn’t sure whether he was so emotional because of the story or because of something else. “Maybe not. It does not really matter, does it? We all signed the contract. Besides, it’s not like we have a lot of time for dating anyway.”

“I suppose not.”

They stood in silence for a little while, Viktor rubbing furiously at his eyes with one hand, and Yuuri gently holding his other hand.

“We should go back to the others,” Yuuri said eventually. “They were quite worried about you.”

“They should be more worried about Celestino. I have never seen Celestino get mad and I’ve been with the agency for years.”

“Fair enough,” Yuuri chuckled, “but that doesn’t mean we should let them wait.”

Yuuri was right, of course. They had to go back. There were still appointments at the agency, they still had to practice tonight for the upcoming tour.

“Yuuri, I--” Viktor started, his voice breaking at the end. He _wanted_ , though he wasn’t exactly sure what he wanted.

“Yes, Vitya?”

 _Why did you leave_? One simple question, but Viktor found he couldn’t get the sentence past his lips. Too scared of the answer. Too afraid of the rejection. Too frightened to hear the truth. He shook his head and smiled sadly. “Nothing, let’s go.”

Yuuri’s face fell, his brows furrowing together in confusion and his lips parted ever so slightly. Viktor felt his eyes ( _traitors_ ) drop down for a second, noticed how Yuuri saw it too.

“Come,” Yuuri said instead, tugging on the hand he was still holding. “We have business to attend to.”

Viktor followed him out of the restroom, his heart heavy in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while, hasn't it?
> 
> I am incredibly sorry for the delay. University was kicking my ass big time, leaving me with either no time to write or with barely any inspiration. However, I am pleased to say that I'll start my internship in February, meaning I'll have quite a bit more free time in the evenings. As I have this story more or less planned out (some things more than others), I am planning to use that time to write. This will hopefully allow me to update quicker! 
> 
> This chapter was... difficult to write, I must say. Part of me just wants the boys to have their happy ending, but there are also many things that they haven't spoken about and the "no-dating rule" was one of them. It goes a lot deeper than Yuuri had thought and there are reasons behind Yuuri's actions that we simply haven't touched upon yet. It has to get bad before it can get better again.
> 
> Your kuddo's and comments are greatly appreciated, even though I don't always respond. I love reading what you guys think of what I write and it always helps me in motivating myself to continue writing. Your responses are the food for my writer's soul!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter, even though it wasn't as much of a happy one. Nevertheless, things should look up soon!
> 
> Until next chapter!


End file.
